A/N: I hope this is what the requester was hoping for :)

“Wow! You’re getting so huge!” his band member teased, playfully poking your stomach and running away.

“Hey!” You tried to chase him, laughing loudly in the lobby of the boys’ company building. A few employees stared at the commotion, some with laughter in their eyes and others with irritation. The two of you paid little notice, racing like children down the halls to the practice room.

He was difficult to follow, the weight of your stomach and lesser endurance slowing you to an irregular waddle down the halls.

You arrived at the practice room, chest heaving with the strain of jogging. Your hands planted on your knees, you tilted your head up to give a defeated smile to his band member. Your husband, however, frowned deeply in response.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” He looked disapproving. “Does running around like a kid seem safe, really?” You felt a pang of shame, his words drawing guilt up in your chest. Despite the reason in his words, you felt defensive.

“I’m fine. Just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean I have to stay at home all day long.” Your husband sighed, feeling that it wasn’t worth the fight.

It was time to practice, and the group’s attention was better focused on work than your behavior.  A comfortable folding chair sat in the room’s corner for you to sit down, propping your feet gently on your husband’s backpack. They practiced loudly and with youthful energy, genuine joy in each pair of eyes.

When they took a break, the fresh bottles of water emptied within seconds. The manager stood to grab more, but you jumped to your feet and walked quickly to the door.

“I can grab them! I need to walk around for a bit anyway.” Your husband looked slightly pained by your unrelenting energy, but said nothing as you walked out of the room.  

The water bottles were stacked precariously in a high cabinet, just beyond the length of your reach. Standing on your toes brought you just high enough to brush the plastic bottles with the tips of your fingers, cool to the touch. You lifted yourself up, pushing onto the counter using the weight of your belly as leverage.

Predictably, your hand slipped from beneath you as you grabbed the water bottles sending everything tumbling to the ground. Your fall echoed with a plummeting sound down the hall, and a few of the bottles bounced and rolled away.

Groaning, you struggled to stand. A burning pain pulsed violently in your elbow and back, and you felt an unmistakable stickiness where your arm had hit the counter’s corner.

One of your husband’s band members came rushing in to help you, your husband following quickly after. They helped you sit; checking to make sure the injuries weren’t severe.

“Is the baby okay?!” Your husband was practically screaming. “Is she okay? Did you hit your stomach?” He was feeling around your belly, paying no attention to your pain.

“She’s fine,” you assured him. “I didn’t hit my stomach. But my arm really hurts.” He sighed in relief, hands still searching for signs of damage.

“I can’t believe you’d be that careless! Mothers are supposed to take care of their children! Honestly, I wish I could carry this child because you’re obviously not responsible enough for our baby.” He continued to berate you for your carelessness, bringing more tears to the corners of your eyes than did the pain from your fall.

“I’m sorry you didn’t have that option,” you muttered, standing up uncomfortably and walking quickly out of the room to avoid a fight.

It was several minutes before a familiar head poked through the doorway of the lounge to which you had resigned. A bandage was wrapped tightly around your elbow, and you had found a pack of ice in the break room freezer to put on your aching back. Dried tears had left sticky streaks on the sides of your cheeks, eyeliner smudged around your eyes and stained on the back of your hands. Again you wiped your eyes, refusing to make eye contact with your husband.

“What do you want?” Your voice was accusatory and displeased, but he looked apologetic.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you,” he said. One hand rested on your enormous belly, the other combing gently through your hair. “I guess I’m just stressed from practice and the baby and everything. Not that it’s an excuse.” You sighed.

“I know you’re stressed. I just can’t sit around at home all the time and do nothing though. It makes me crazy to just sit there!”

Your husband moved closer, tightening his arms around you.

“I’m really sorry. Maybe in between practices we can go out and do some fun things instead of staying at home.” He smiled expectantly, leaving a light kiss in the curve of your neck. For a few minutes you sat together, quietly enjoying his break before practice started up again. “You ready to go back in?” he asked, touching a finger to your closed eyelids. You didn’t respond, locked in a deep sleep.

He stood, moving slowly out from next to you, and pulled the ice pack away from your cool skin. A soft blue blanket lay folded on the sofa next to you, and he smoothed it over you as you slept.

“I’ll be back soon,” he promised, leaving a kiss gently on your forehead.