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"Hey, why the gloomy face?" Gently, Tom wrapped his arms around her, one hand playing tenderly with the hair in her neck while the other rested on her waist.
"I’m fat," Olivia merely pouted, lowering her head with a loud sigh. Tom chuckled and, though unable to see him, she glared at him instantly.
"That’s not funny, Thomas!"
Immediately, he stopped, looking at her with his shimmering, blue eyes. “But love, you are not fat. You are pregnant and perfectly so. You are beautfiful,” he smiled, his hand now gently cupping her cheek.
"But I feel fat. I keep bumping into things and just earlier I closed the fridge door with this…this huge medicine ball that’s attached to the front of my body. I can’t even sleep on my back anymore and even sleeping on my side is uncomfortable. Not to mention the fact that sleeping on the tummy, my absolute favourite position, is entirely out of the question," she kept mumbling and the first angry tears welled up in her beautiful, brown eyes.
"Oh darling, I am sorry," Tom said quietly and breathed a kiss onto her forehead. "Maybe a pillow under your belly would help you sleep when you’re lying on your side, hm? Shall we give that a try tonight? Or you can use me anytime if you want. And don’t worry about the fridge door, this kitchen is tiny anyway," he tried to console her, his hand drawing patterns onto her back.
"Maybe," Olivia muttered, not quite satisfied with his answer. For a moment she remained quiet and simply enjoyed the feeling his fingertips left on her back before she added, "Oh and I don’t fit into my clothes anymore. You know the hoddie that I’ve been wearing all the time? The one you brought back from the Avengers set? Yeah, I’m too fat for that now. I can’t even fit into your clothes anymore." Once more, tears of frustration filled her eyes and even though he really did feel sorry for her, Tom could barely suppress a chuckle.
"Honey,…I’ve got some other hoodies, bigger ones, they’ll fit you. And don’t forget, it’s only for a few more weeks. After these we’ll be able to hold our little one, our tiny creation. We’ll be able to sing him or her songs and we can cuddle it and love it. It will be ours, yours and mine, to keep. Isn’t that a wonderful thought?," he whispered, still caressing her, still holding her, his cheek now resting against hers.
Olivia nodded hesitantly. “I guess so,” she mumbled, unwilling to admit that he was right. She just wanted to pout and moan a bit, was that too much to ask? After all she had to carry it around, she was the one running to the loo every ten minutes, and she was the one craving ice cream and gherkins at 2 in the morning.
"Please don’t be sad," Tom whispered, taking her hands into his own and guiding them under her shirt and towards her bump. "Do you feel that? Can you feel how perfect this is, how perfect you are? Every curve, every inch of you is wonderful and I could just stand here and stare at you all day and touch you and…god, Olly, I love you. So very much." He couldn’t contain his smile as he muttered those words and she knew, she heard it.
Olivia was helpless. Whenever he smiled, whenever he was happy, she couldn’t help but smile and be happy, too. It was like a disease but in a good way. In the best of ways, actually.