Chapter Text
You wobbled away from the moving truck on your driveway and made your way to the door of your new house. It was a beautiful house, kind of old. Exactly what you liked, all that modern stuff really wasn’t your thing. Or Alex’s for that matter.
You stepped into the hallway, careful not to drop the box you were carrying. ‘BEDROOM,’ it read in Alex’s blocked writing. God, it was heavy. If Alex found out you were carrying it he wouldn’t be happy. You weren’t exactly in the state to carry stuff around, but didn’t want Alex to move all the boxes himself until Matt came over. As you put one foot on the first step of your staircase, you heard the front door close with a small click.
“Hey! What do we think we’re doing?”
“I can carry this one, Al. I promise,” you tried to save yourself. But at the look in his eyes you could see he wasn’t gonna let you. He quickly put the box he was holding –‘ALEX’S RECORDS’, of course… – down and took over your box.
“The heavy bedroom box?” He asked, surprise in his voice. “What’d you think? That you were gonna get this one upstairs?!”
“I uhm… I just didn’t want you to carry everything…”
“The only thin’ a pregnant women should carry is a baby,” he said, while poking his finger at your belly. “Two more months and you can carry whatever you want. But not now.”
Two more months… and then the baby would be here. Finally. Before you were pregnant, you and Alex had tried for months to conceive, without success. The continued disappointment began to affect your relationship and you decided to stop trying. To just enjoy each other and try for it again in half a year or so. So the both of you booked a vacation. Three months of travelling through Europe.
One night while in Madrid, almost at the end of your three month trip, you had been experiencing unexplainable stomach aces. A worried Alex had called a doctor, who advised you to visit the nearest hospital. Not once did you suspect a pregnancy, but an echo confirmed the news: Two months pregnant, everything was well.
You could remember the moment as if it was yesterday. The tears. The joy. The relief. Phone calls to your parents. Alex’s endless chanting of ‘I’m gonna be a dad!’ in his Yorkshire accent, echoing through the Spanish hospital at 4 am, after which it quickly turned into a early morning photo shoot. You were with Alex Turner after all and some Spanish nurses had recognized him. Being the darling that he is – and in a complete state of euphoria – he went to take photos with all of them. Meanwhile you filled out some paperwork and looked up the earliest flight home. You left Spain that same day.
“…okay?” You were snapped out of your flashback.
“I’m sorry, what?”
He rolled his eyes with a chuckle. “Wait for me downstairs while I put this box away, okay?” He started to make his way up the stairs.
“Fine… I guess we…” you drew out the word ‘we’. “will just wait for you here,” you grinned, while pointing from your belly to yourself. A loud laugh erupted from him. You turned around towards the living room.
“Oh! You can go sit down on the couch! Matt and I brought it in for you yesterday,” he yelled from upstairs.
Finally something more comfortable than plastic chairs or stools! They were fine for Matt and Al to sit on when they took breaks from working on the house, but they aren’t ideal when you’re seven months pregnant. Luckily you were still pretty mobile. Didn’t have to sit or lay down all the time. But you had to admit your ankles were getting more and more swollen. You were more wobbling around than walking and as much as you hated to admit it: Alex was right. There was no way you could’ve gotten that box upstairs on your own.
You opened the door from the hallway to your living room. There was the couch, with a lower table across from it, where the television would be on later. Alex’s record player would be next to it, with both of your record collections. Your living room was divided into two sections: one where you could sit during the day or evening and one where, much to your surprise, the dining table was already set up.
In the corner of your eye you spotted Alex’s acoustic guitar. It was dangerously propped up against the small table, seconds from falling over. You wobbled over to it as lifted it up before it would fall. You made your way to the couch and carefully lay the guitar flat on it.
With a sigh you let yourself fall next to it. Suddenly you realized how tired you really were. You leaned your head back onto the couch and closed your eyes. After a few minutes, before almost falling asleep, you heard stumbling upstairs.
“Oh, no, no, no. Fuck!” You heard from upstairs, followed by a loud groan and things falling on the floor.
“Are you doing okay up there, Turner?” You laughed. “Do we need to rescue you?”
“I’m fine, love. Stay there, I’ll be with you in a minute.”
More profanities followed before you heard him stumbling down the stairs. He stepped into your living room, carefully closing the door behind him.
“Bloody closet parts…” he mumbled, before turning to face you. His hair looked a mess, but you liked it that way. Messy and not in place. He smiled and looked from your belly to your face and back. You had to admit he looked a bit worried.
“Just give it to me,” you said dramatically while sarcastically throwing your hands up in the air. “I’m getting fat, aren’t I?”
He laughed as he seated himself next to you. You snuggled up against him, your head on his shoulder.
“Please, you’re the most beautiful pregnant woman I’ve ever seen,” he whispered. He put his hand on your belly, his pinky ring resting on your belly button that was really poking out since a few weeks. Then he started to rub in slow circles.
You looked up at him with a smile and kissed his temple. “You’re sweet. Are you okay? You looked worried just now.”
He shrugged. “I’m fine, I’spose… it’s just… I feel like…” He struggled to find the correct words. He was making all kinds of hand gestures, trying to find a way to say what he wanted to say.
“Don’t you get scared?” He finally asked with a sigh. He looked you in the eye, his big brown eyes filled with fear.
“Hey, come on now. Where is this coming from?” Was he serious? He could offer this baby so much love and joy, you were shocked he even doubted himself like this.
“Babies need so much care. Sometimes I’m afraid that… that I can’t do it.” He looked away, his messy hair falling in his eyes. You moved a little so that you could cup his face. You brushed his hair aside, making him look you in the eye again.
“Listen to me, Alexander. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that you will make a great father, okay?” He nodded.
“And yes, it’s scary,” you admitted. “And to be honest, I am scared too. But we can do this together, I’m sure of that.”
He leaned forward and softly kissed you on the lips. “Thank you,” he almost whispered as he ran his thumb over your cheek. He sounded relieved. You sighed and leaned into his touch.
“And for the record, you will make such an amazing mother,” he said. You smiled.
For a moment you two sat there, saying nothing, just looking at each other, Alex’s eyes occasionally flicking to your belly and back.
“We can do this,” he finally said, nodding his head. He sounded confident now.
“Exactly.” You pressed your lips to his again.
Suddenly you heard someone clearing their throat. “Am I interrupting a tender moment between mommy and daddy?”
The both of you turned your head. Matt stood in the doorway, a smirk on his lips.
“Ready to start painting the baby room, daddy?” He said in a childlike voice. You couldn’t help but laugh as Alex turned a little red and jumped up from the couch.
“Let’s go mate,” he said as he stumbled and almost tripped over his own feet. This only made you and Matt laugh harder. You stood up too and walked after them.
“I wanna help too,” you said.
Alex squinted his eyes at you. “Are you bloody serious?”
“I am bloody serious,” you said, mocking his accent.
He threw his hands up in the air. “Alright then. But no paint buckets for you! You know I don’t want you carrying—“
“I know, I know. I won’t carry anything but this baby.”