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Her actions were absolutely irrational.
Completely and utterly irrational.
Not that Jemma was going to stop. She was hunkered down on the kitchen floor, toothbrush in hand, scrubbing the tile grout lines with a baking soda and water mixture.
The baby kicked, and she ran a hand over her belly. Yesterday had officially been her due date, but it seemed like her daughter wasn’t ready to come out yet, despite all the preparation Jemma’s body was doing with Braxton Hicks contractions.
Though if Jemma’s insistent drive to clean was any indication, it wouldn’t be too much longer.
The door opened and closed. “Jemma?” Fitz said. He’d run to the lab for a couple of hours and was supposed to be bringing home sandwiches from the little shop on the corner for dinner.
“In here,” she called, glaring at a mysterious stain on the grout.
Fitz set the white paper bag with their dinner in it on the pass-through, then walked around the corner into the kitchen. “What the bloody hell are you doing?” he yelped.
She sat back on her heels and rolled her eyes. “Cleaning.”
“On the floor? At nine months pregnant?”
She snorted. “I’m fine, and so is Rosie.” She waggled the toothbrush at Fitz. “I just need to get this done. Who knows if it’s ever been cleaned properly?” She went back to scrubbing at the stain.
“Jemma, I’m sure Rosie won’t die of the black plague if the grout on the kitchen floor is only cleaned with the steam mop. Which you did yesterday. Twice. Why don’t you come have a nice, fresh, sandwich? I got your favorite one with bacon, lettuce, tomato, and avocado on it.”
Her stomach rumbled, but while her avocado craving was nudging at her to eat, the edgy feeling that had propelled her into scrubbing was still there. The house had to be perfect before Rosie showed up, which could be any minute now. “I’ll just finish up here before I settle down to have dinner.”
Fitz sighed and ran a hand over his face. He kneeled next to her. “Jemma, I love you.”
“I love you too.” She eyed him. He cupped her cheek and turned her head towards him, leaning in to kiss her.
She was expecting a peck, but instead his mouth slanted over hers as he snogged her like crazy.
“Um, Fitz,” she mumbled, but he slid his tongue into her mouth, and Jemma forgot her argument as fire raced down her spine to gather low in her belly. The toothbrush clattered to the floor, and she turned towards him, grabbing his tie and yanking him closer.
“Jemma,” he moaned, sitting fully on the floor and hauling her into his lap.
She was almost sure she’d been doing something a moment ago, but it couldn’t have been that important if she couldn’t remember it.
Fitz rubbed a hand over her lower back, soothing the persistent ache that hadn’t been helped by her kneeling on the floor.
He kissed the corner of her mouth, her jaw, and down her neck in a way that made her arch and moan.
“I was trying to distract you,” he said, nuzzling her ear. “But now I just want to take you to bed and make love to my astonishing wife.”
A pain tightened around her abdomen, more insistent than the on and off again ones she’d had all day. Jemma gasped.
“Does that sound good?” He kissed her again as the discomfort faded.
It did sound good. She slid her lips over his, mewling, and scratched at his stubble with the fingers of one hand, loving the rough feel.
Fitz caressed her belly. She never got tired of how excited he was about her pregnancy. The love and warmth in his glances and touches helped her to feel proud of what her body was doing, even if the reality was often less than glamorous.
Jemma nipped at his lower lip, then soothed the bite with a soft kiss as she undid the knot of his tie.
The pain returned, sharper and lower in her back. She had to pause what she was doing and close her eyes.
It finally eased, and she blew a breath out. “Sorry, that one was a bit worse than—”
“Jemma?” Fitz’s voice was shaky.
“Yes?” She opened her eyes to find him gaping at the front of her trousers. She glanced down. They were wet.
“Well, that explains the back pain and unease,” she said brightly. “I’ve been in labor all day.”
Fitz made an incoherent noise, then somehow got both him and her standing. There was a corresponding stain on the leg of his trousers that she would have laughed at if another contraction hadn’t hit.
She breathed through it while Fitz became progressively paler. “Alright,” she said. “They’re maybe three minutes apart and strong. Let’s change and get the hospital bag.”
“How can you be so calm?” he said, voice high pitched.
“This is an expected event, Fitz.” She looked glumly at the floor. “I would have liked to finish cleaning first. Now hurry, Rosie’s going to be here soon. Most likely before midnight.”
Fitz exploded into action, nearly falling as he yanked his trousers off while running down the hall. Jemma followed at a more sedate pace.
In the bedroom, she found him yanking jeans on with one hand, the handles of the hospital bag in the other.
“Fitz,” she said, laying her hands on his shoulders as he succeeded in getting his jeans on. “Fitz.”
His eyes were a little wild as she leaned in and kissed him. He relaxed a fraction, and she kept it up, even through another contraction. His mouth was soft and warm, and when he pulled back, he looked much less terrified.
“Let’s get you into those track pants, shall we?” he said.
Jemma nodded, pushing down her maternity trousers and wet knickers. “I was hoping to be doing this in a completely different fashion,” she said with a laugh.
“Rosie already knows when we want alone time.”
“Oh dear,” Jemma smiled. “But I can’t wait to meet her.”
Fitz leaned his forehead against hers. “Me either.”