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It’s late at night. Or early in the morning if Lexa felt like pretending she’s awake early instead of late. It’s dreadfully cold outside, autumn settling in harsher this year, windy grey mornings with rainy and freezing afternoons that extend through the night, the work around their tiny farm rushed in the early hours of the day so they can enjoy a cozy afternoon inside by the fire. Lexa enjoys it, a step up from the scalding hot summer that had just passed and that left her uncomfortable and sweaty every second of the day.
Although, the baby might be more to blame than the actual weather.
Just shy of thirty-four weeks, Lexa finds comfort to be something scarce and short-lived. She misses the sight of her painted toes, the ability to walk more than five steps without needing to catch her breath. Although the cravings are the ones Lexa finds herself hating the most; never has she ever craved food so bad she feels like crying if she does not taste it.
They are manageable for the most part, weirder than they are inconvenient, and even if Clarke will scrunch her nose at Lexa’s request for pancakes drenched in syrup and pickles, she’s always nothing but ready to prepare whatever her pregnant wife asks for without so much as a complaint.
A particularly violent gust of wind hits the window of their bedroom, whistling between the tree tops and making the old glass shake. Clarke moves in her slumber beside her, eyebrows frowning at the sound before she finally settles closer to Lexa, hand gently finding its way on to her bump. Lexa stares at her lovingly, and debates whether she should even try and awaken her peacefully sleeping wife for a simple craving.
She could make it herself; they should have everything she needs in the pantry. It would take time no doubt, the narrow stairs that lead into the hall being a challenge in itself, but it is doable before the alarm clock rings. Or so she hopes.
Gently, carefully, Lexa lifts her wife’s hand from her belly and places it on top of her pregnancy pillow, hoping the change won’t be too noticeable for a fast asleep Clarke. When the blonde doesn’t do as much as stir, Lexa slides out from under the covers with as much grace as her eight month belly allows her, triumphantly sliding her slippers on her swollen feet and wrapping one of Clarke’s warm flannels around her arms.
She makes it halfway through the steps before her resolution dissolves and her fatigue takes over. She wants it. She really, really wants it but there are still half the steps to go and every single one feels like climbing down a mountain for her poor tired body.
It doesn’t take long for a lump to form in her throat and the tears to burn in her eyes. She curses to the winds about her lack of emotional control over some damn stairs and inside of her the baby kicks, trying to remind her mom there is still work ahead.
“I know you really want the pumpkin bread baby, but I’m so tired.”
Another kick, more forceful this time as if her mother's tiredness doesn't move her one bit and it’s all it takes for Lexa to break down.
She doesn’t know how long she stays half seated on a step with her head against the wall, sobbing her little heart out over a sweet loaf of bread.
“Babe?”
Clarke’s voice is hoarse and coated with sleep, most likely having gotten out of bed as soon as she realized Lexa was not next to her, her sobbing for sure awaking her.
She turns to her, body slumped as she rubs her eyes to try and wake herself up enough to process her wife crying in the middle of the staircase.
Another wave of emotion rushes over Lexa, this time vaguely disguised as guilt over not staying in bed and causing Clarke to lose rest over her instead of continuing on sleeping. She feels silly over it, irrational even but finds herself crying again before she can do anything about it.
“Hey, it’s okay, I’m here.” Clarke approaches her slowly, clearly still a little dazed from sleep, but her voice shows nothing but sweetness and concern over her, making her heart melt just a little bit “What’s wrong angel?”
Sometimes Lexa thinks Clarke is far too good for her. Far too sweet, far too patient, far too kind to be with a mess like her. A mess who cries over sore backs and dumb cravings. But Lexa would not let her go for the world.
She does her best to talk, to scramble something that could resemble a sentence but all that leaves her mouth is a broken sob, one Clarke quickly responds to by wrapping her arms around her as best as she can in the tight space of the stairwell and suddenly Lexa finds herself crying about how uncomfortable Clarke must feel, with barely any room to sit on the step beside her and how miserable Lexa must have turned her night.
It takes her a while, the storm outside soothing her as much as the steady beating of Clarke’s heart.
“I want pumpkin bread.” She finally lets out, head heavy on Clarke’s shoulder as she allows the last of her tears to fall. Her eyes are heavy and despite her admission Lexa feels like maybe she could go right back under the comfort of their bed and sleep until morning.
But the baby wants what the baby wants. And the baby still very much wants pumpkin bread.
“We have pumpkin bread?” Clarke asks and Lexa smiles at the adorable tiredness still present in her question, confusion about what she must believe to be something she would remember seeing on the counter.
Lexa shakes her head, feeling surprisingly lighter after her cry, “No… I was going to bake it. But,” Lexa gestures to herself, body barely fitting on the wooden step, with a half-hearted laugh, “I clearly didn’t make it very far.”
There’s a gentle smile on Clarke’s face but the crease on her forehead doesn’t disappear, “You should have woken me up Lex. You could have fallen down the stairs.”
Lexa finds herself rolling her eyes at her worry. Clarke is over protective to the extreme, always has been to a degree, but with Lexa’s pregnancy came a new type of protectiveness. A more motherly one if Lexa had to put a name on it, like she’s preparing herself for their little bundle of joy by babying Lexa as much as she can before she gets to mother their actual child. And for the most part Lexa finds it cute.
For the most part that is.
“I’m not a child, Clarke.”
“But you are with one. I’m not asking you to wake me up every time you have to pee. I’m just asking for you not to go roaming around the house alone in pitch blackness like a character in a cheesy horror movie.”
She’s never harsh with her, Lexa can't remember a moment where Clarke ever yelled at her out of anger, but there is an edge to her voice that Lexa wishes nothing more than to sooth.
“You scared a ghost might trip me down the stairs?”
Clarke does not find her witty remark amusing, that much is clear and Lexa is forced to hang her head down in slight shame.
“One month Lexa. Can’t you just hold still for one more month? I promise I’ll let you do cartwheels on top of the damn horses after that.” The goofy image has both of them laugh and immediately the air feels lighter between them, “Can you promise me that?”
She can. Although she is quite done with having Clarke attached to her hip more so than usual, she thinks she can handle her wife smothering her with care and love for just one more month if it means their baby will arrive safe and sound to her arms.
“Okay.” And with the short answer, Lexa plants a kiss on Clarke’s lips, suddenly feeling needy for her wife’s affection. In her neediness, she’s more forceful than she should, nearly sending them both tumbling down the stairs when she puts her weight a little too much on Clarke, causing the blonde to pinch her hip gently as a warning.
Lexa laughs at the gesture, sure that if she could she would have climbed entirely into Clarke’s lap, but the movement inside of her makes her suddenly quiet down.
Clarke’s matching amused expression falls just as quickly, “Are you okay, baby?”
Instead of answering, Lexa moves her hand towards her stomach, where the baby is kicking up a storm stronger than the one outside, most clearly done with being made to wait for her food while her mothers are cute with each other.
Lexa smiles sheepishly, “She wants food.”
With a gentle peck on Lexa's lips, Clarke smiles back, suddenly awake, “Let’s get my girls pumpkin bread then.”
**
The house smells delightfully of fall. She loves the smell of pumpkin spice, the warm coziness and fond memories it brings along.
Lexa lays in bed again after Clarke all but carried her back to their room with promises of baking her the pumpkin bread as long as she tried to catch some sleep in the meantime. Not that Lexa had needed much more encouragement than that before finding herself dozing off to the sound of rain and pans being shuffled around on the floor below.
An unnecessary knock on the opened door catches her attention.
“Hey pretty girl, look what I have for you.”
It’s impossible not to smile as she hears Clarke’s voice enter the bedroom, bringing with her the sweetly delicious smell of fresh pumpkin bread.
“Hm, hey!” She manages out, stretching her arms above her head as she tries to shake the sleepiness away, “Smells good.”
The bed moves where Clarke plops herself behind Lexa, bending down to leave a crumble filled smooch on her cheek.
As she does, Lexa inhales happily, “You smell good too.” she adds and Clarke smiles lovingly at her.
“Tastes really good too. Still can’t believe I was the one who baked it.” The pride in her voice is endearing beyond belief and Lexa has half a mind to start waking her up everyday at three in the morning just to have her bake for her.
“I never doubted you for a second my love.” She manages through a yawn.
She’s still half asleep as she turns around to face Clarke, her belly making the movement far less smooth than she wished.
“I’m almost positive you asked me not to burn down the kitchen.” She’s obviously tired, Lexa notes with slight guilt, but her humor is still very present.
“We all say things we don't believe in.” She chuckles, accepting both the plate with a warm slice of bread and the warm kiss placed on her lips.
“Did this little bug let you sleep at all while I was gone?”
It’s always so overwhelmingly dear how Clarke will rub her protruding belly with such love on her touch. She does it so carefully, afraid she’ll put too much pressure on her hand and hurt the precious being inside despite knowing better than to think she will. It soothes both mother and child, Lexa finding so much comfort in the simple gesture while their baby, usually a little bundle of energy that tires Lexa to no end, finally calms down at the feeling of mommy's touch.
“She fell asleep right after you left. She knows to trust mommy to help us with the cravings.” She smiles and finally takes her bite of the promised glorious treat.
“Hmmmm," Lexa all but moans," it’sho good I could cry.” She’s joking, but she just might.
“You two all happy now?”
With her eyes closed, Lexa nods as she greedily savors every hint of cinnamon and nutmeg that her mouth can taste, happily humming along with it, “Never been happier.”
“Good.” Clarke carefully lifts her sleeping shirt, the coldness of the room making her shiver just to quickly be warmed by lips kissing right where the baby rests inside her belly, “All I want is for my girls to be happy.”
“If you don’t stop being all cute I’m gonna start crying again.” And if the tears that burn in the corner of her eyes are any indications, she means it.
Clarke chuckles against her skin, leaving it with one last kiss before finally getting up. As she does, Lexa notices that at some point she has changed out of her old pajama shirt and sleeping shorts, because even during the cold months she complains about feeling too hot. It is not raining anymore and the sound of birds can be heard outside, accompanied by the gentle sounds of their little family of chickens prancing around their coop.
“What time is it?” She realizes Clarke might have taken longer than she thought preparing the bread as the outside world starts turning slightly brighter than it was when she closed her eyes.
“Around five-thirty or so.”
She whines. It’s too early for Clarke to be preparing for the day, especially after spending the night up.
“Hmm, it's too early, come back to bed.” It's a tired whine as Lexa slowly loses her fight against sleep.
Clarke moves closer to her face now, and Lexa sighs merrily when their lips meet in a slow gentle kiss.
"I was thinking I could just feed everyone on the farm in one fell swoop and then I'd come back to you and cuddle for the rest of the day."
The proposition sounds tempting.
"All day cuddles?"
Clarke smirks, amused. Lexa knows she can be an absolute cuddle monster but in her state of constant discomfort, it is all she wants to do. Besides, the season calls for it.
"All day cuddles and pumpkin bread while we watch Halloween movies, what do you say mama?"
Wrapping her arms around Clarke's neck, whose hand has once again found its way back on Lexa's tummy, she smooches their noses together, giggling with tiredness.
"I say I'm very glad this little one decided to crave the fallest of foods."