“It sure is a pretty color,” he says, tugging your braid as he walks behind you.
“Yeah, it’s real pretty.” You smile, continuing to paint the wall the light pink you had picked out for the baby’s room.
He steps back from the wall, inspecting the progress. You smiled at your husband, in his jeans, no shirt, and DX hat.
“This color would look pretty on you,” he grins.
You step back, taking a look at the wall. He comes behind you, arms wrapping around you and your pregnant belly.
“You really think this color would look good on me?”
“Well, let’s see,” he smirks.
The next thing you know, the pink paint is all over your shirt.
He steps back, admiring his work. “Definitely your color.”
You gape at your shirt, the smile. “You little shit.” You laugh, bending down to grab your paint brush.
“You wouldn’t…” He starts, as you flick the paintbrush at him.
“You know, I can’t just take the paint off of my chest… Of face.” He sputters.
“But it’s your color!” You laugh.
“I think you look better in it.”
He says, smearing it off his face to smear it on yours. “Brings out your eyes.” He smirks.
“Really?” You laugh. “I think it’d be a good hair color for you.” You say, taking the paint brush to the side of his hair and on his DX hat.
“Not the hair! Or the hat!” He yells, running away from you.
You laugh, chasing after him.
“Pregnant ladies shouldn’t run!” He yells.
“Husbands of pregnant ladies shouldn’t paint their wives!” You yell at him.
He turns back to look at you, and trips over painting supplies.
“Oww.” He says.
You lay on top of him, grinning. “Payback.” You smile.
“Are you excited?” He smiled.
“Really.” You say, leaning down, giving him a kiss.
“Yeah, it’s real pretty.” You smile, continuing to paint the wall the light pink you had picked out for the baby’s room.
He steps back from the wall, inspecting the progress. You smiled at your husband, in his jeans, no shirt, and DX hat.
“This color would look pretty on you,” he grins.
You step back, taking a look at the wall. He comes behind you, arms wrapping around you and your pregnant belly.
“You really think this color would look good on me?”
“Well, let’s see,” he smirks.
The next thing you know, the pink paint is all over your shirt.
He steps back, admiring his work. “Definitely your color.”
You gape at your shirt, the smile. “You little shit.” You laugh, bending down to grab your paint brush.
“You wouldn’t…” He starts, as you flick the paintbrush at him.
“You know, I can’t just take the paint off of my chest… Of face.” He sputters.
“But it’s your color!” You laugh.
“I think you look better in it.”
He says, smearing it off his face to smear it on yours. “Brings out your eyes.” He smirks.
“Really?” You laugh. “I think it’d be a good hair color for you.” You say, taking the paint brush to the side of his hair and on his DX hat.
“Not the hair! Or the hat!” He yells, running away from you.
You laugh, chasing after him.
“Pregnant ladies shouldn’t run!” He yells.
“Husbands of pregnant ladies shouldn’t paint their wives!” You yell at him.
He turns back to look at you, and trips over painting supplies.
“Oww.” He says.
You lay on top of him, grinning. “Payback.” You smile.
“Are you excited?” He smiled.
“Really.” You say, leaning down, giving him a kiss.
His tongue ran down your stomach. It sent chills up your back. It felt amazing.
His tongue went back up to your lips as he started to unclasp your bra. He got it off, and threw it across the room.
But instead of it hitting the floor with a thud…
“Not on my couch.” Darry says, bra in hand
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.
“Yeah?” He says, looking over at you.
“I found this in the attic.” You say, tossing it over to him.
It was his baby blanket, a dark blue color.
He looks at it wide eyed, just taking in the memories.
“What about this?” He asks, still looking at the blanket.
“Well I thought our baby would like it.”
“Planning ahead huh?” He grins.
“Only 8 eight months ahead.” You smile.
He looks up at you in surprise.
“You’re pregnant?” He asks, standing up from the couch to face you.
You just smile.
He scoops you up into a giant hug.
How were you going to tell him you got laid off?
Y’all needed money… You had just bought a house, and money was short.
So of course you had to lose your job.
You walking into your house, and flop onto the couch. You were pretty much done with all the stress.
Darry walked out of the bathroom, towel around his waist.
“What’s up babe?” He said, chuckling at the sight of you sprawled on the couch.
“I got laid off.” You mumble.
He’s silent for a second, taking this in. “I’ll pick up another shift.” He says.
“No, no.. You don’t have to…” You start.
“No.. I’d make more money than you would. It’s gonna be fine I promise.”
He picks up the naked two year old and plops him into the bath. “There. Your in. Stay in.”
You were holding baby Stephanie, who would not stop crying. Why did you and Dally even agree to watch Johnny’s kids? This wasn’t a great experience.
“Hey, (Y/N), look at this,” Dally grins.
You look in the bathroom to see Josh, sitting in the tub, his hair greased back, smiling like a maniac.
You can’t help but burst out laughing, only making the baby cry more.
“Stephie, shut the hell up!” Josh says from the tub.
“Josh!” You scold. You glare at Dally.
“It wasn’t me!” Dally says.
“Yeah right.” You say, rolling your eyes.
“In my opinion, we are the greatest babysitters ever.” Dally said, smiling.
“Hey,” Dally whispers in your ear.
“Hey,”you whisper back.
“You’re parents home?”
“Yeah, they’re asleep.”
“So nothing fun?”
“Dally, you pig.” You laugh.
“Nah, I love just cuddling with you.” He says, snuggling closer to your body.
You’re silent for awhile, feeling the heat of his body.
“I love you.” You whisper.
“Not as much as I love you.” He squeezes you.
“Are you crying?” You ask as he walks in.
“No.” He mutters, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.
“Yes you are, you big softie,” Ponyboy grins.
“Is she all ok?” Soda asks, still sniffling.
“Yes, she’s in perfect condition.” The doctor grins. ” 6 pounds, 9 ounces. You want to hold her?” He asks Soda.
Soda just nods his head. The doctor hands him the baby.
(OK INSERT SODA BABY IMAGINE HERE TO GET SODA FEELINGS)
Soda just smiles.
“Hey, Grace.” He says softly. “Hey.”
“She looks like you.” Ponyboy says to you as he looks over Soda’s shoulder at his niece.
“Pretty, just like her mom.” Soda glances at you.
I had it all ready.
My parents wouldn’t care.
It would be a blessing for me to be gone.
I take a deep breath and take a final look in the mirror. My dark skin. Even darker eyes. The black hair I could never keep back. The scar on my cheek.
I run a hand through my hair, exhale, and open the mirror to see the different bottles of pills glaring at me; tempting me.
It would hurt the least. Less than the blade. But it might take longer. The rope would be quicker.
I reach for a bottle, twist the cap, and pour a few pills in my hand. I take another bottle and do the same.
I take a look at the drugs in my hand. I sigh, tilt my head back, and drop the pills in my mouth.
“JOHNNY!” I heard my drunk mother screech.
I spit the pills back into my hands.
I wouldn’t do this in front of my mother. Even though she was awful, she still is my mom. Im still her son.
My parents wouldn’t care.
It would be a blessing for me to be gone.
I take a deep breath and take a final look in the mirror. My dark skin. Even darker eyes. The black hair I could never keep back. The scar on my cheek.
I run a hand through my hair, exhale, and open the mirror to see the different bottles of pills glaring at me; tempting me.
It would hurt the least. Less than the blade. But it might take longer. The rope would be quicker.
I reach for a bottle, twist the cap, and pour a few pills in my hand. I take another bottle and do the same.
I take a look at the drugs in my hand. I sigh, tilt my head back, and drop the pills in my mouth.
“JOHNNY!” I heard my drunk mother screech.
I spit the pills back into my hands.
I wouldn’t do this in front of my mother. Even though she was awful, she still is my mom. Im still her son.