The bad kind of surprise (Peter, Deirdre, Baby Thomas)

[father-peter.livejournal.com]

As Lauren and Aly were both sleeping, Peter was feeding Baby Thomas in the kitchen, and having a rather good time actually. Baby Thomas was always a joy, and no was certainly no exception. Thomas was happily eating the strained plums Peter was feeding him, and he ever reached for the spoon in an effort to help the process along, which made Peter laugh. "You'll make a mess, Thomas, and then your mother will win the 'clean or dirty' contest and I'm not ready to throw in the dust rag just yet. I'll make you a germaphobe sooner or later!" Peter held onto the spoon tightly as he guided it into Thomas' mouth. "How's that, hmm? Num num?"

"Ba!" Thomas shouted, after swallowing.

"Ba! I hope that's a good ba!" Peter laughed.

"Ba!" Thomas repeated.

"Can you say 'if Daddy doesn't sleep soon, he's going to fall asleep standing up?'" Peter asked with a smile.

"BA!" And Thomas looked quite pleased with himself.

"Well, you're certainly determined at any rate." Peter grinned until Thomas brought his hand down into the bowl of plums, slopping mess everywhere, including Peter's face. "Heh. So, Thomas, were you done then?" Peter asked, wiping some from his nose. "Thanks for that. Now your mother wins regardless. Unless we're sneaky and don't tell her. And I'm sticky. Which I do not like."

"Mama!" Thomas shouted.

"Oh sure, be on her side. I suppose I can't blame you, she is prettier than me." Peter said, kissing the little boy's non-sticky hand and then he rested his chin on the edge of Thomas' high chair tray. "Little boy. What a world for you to grow up in." His voice was suddenly melancholy. Thomas just smiled, however, because he loved it when Peter talked to him.

"Does he ever talk back?" Deirdre asked softly from the door, her voice nearly a whisper.

"Deirdre." Peter sat up quickly, turning to look at her. "Sometimes he says 'ba'..."

"Is your face leaking?!" Deirdre squeaked, surveying the mess of strained plum blanketing him.

"What?! Oh! No, it's Thomas' lunch. He decided he prefers me fruity." Peter stood to fetch himself a towel, which he made quick use of. "How are you today, Deirdre?" he asked when he felt less plummy and more human. He wet the towel and he started washing Thomas' hands too. Until Deirdre's next words made him freeze.

"Uhm. Not great. I think I'm pregnant."

Peter turned around then, his hand still holding Thomas' tiny one, the wet towel in the other. "Deirdre...what?" As far as he knew, Deirdre couldn't have children. How could this have happened?!

"Rolf's back and he brought his weirdarse brother with him who doesn't know what a telly is but can tell the future or something like that. He dreamed about me. Having a baby. And then Rolf felt it and goddammit, Peter, get it out of me right the hell now, get it out!!" Deirdre leaned back against the wall, putting her hands over her face.

"O...okay, Deirdre, just hold on." Peter picked Thomas up out of the high chair and Thomas gave a happy squeal to be in his father's arms. Quickly, Peter found Angie and he transferred Thomas to her care before returning to Deirdre who was exactly where he had left her. "I...I don't understand." Peter said, shaking his head. "This angel just...told you this."

"Yeah! Like he was telling me my free gift with purchase was in the goddamn post, Peter!" Deirdre was on the verge of tears now. "I haven't even taken a test because I'm too scared! I don't want it to say yes! Peter! Oh god, what if it says yes?!"

Peter stepped forward and he wrapped his arms around her tightly. "Deirdre, it will be alright. We'll figure this out together."

"It won't be alright! I can't be the same after something like this!" She wailed into his shoulder, clinging tightly to his neck. "He said it was an angel! I have an angel inside me! How the hell do I have an angel inside me?!"

"I don't know, Sweetheart. God, I don't know." Peter felt simultaneously like ripping someone's throat out, and breaking down into a sobbing heap of Peter Kemp. His poor Deirdre. "You're not alone. Deirdre. You're not alone anymore."

Deirdre sniffed. "Isn't that the problem?" She asked quietly. Peter didn't respond. "So..I'm not allowed to go massacre a bunch of people, right?"

"You probably shouldn't..."

"This doesn't please me." Deirdre whispered, leaning her head against Peter's in defeat. "I should have let myself die."

"No you bloody well shouldn't have." Peter growled. "Come on. I'll take you to the doctor's." He moved away from her slowly, but he never took his hand away from her. He didn't care if he was slightly sticky, or that he was so tired just walking was a gamble. Deirdre needed him. And him she would have.