Crackers and Ginger Ale
By ralst
Plain crackers and ginger ale. Plain crackers and ginger ale. Plain crackers and...and... Willow's mind was in a tumble of panicked indecision as she tried to recall the items her partner had requested. It wasn't as if it were an exhaustive list, just the two items, but with those two things came a mountain of accessories - eighteen years of accessories to be exact.
Breathe, breathe, breathe. Crackers and ginger ale, crackers and ginger ale, and college tuition and mortgage payments and explaining the facts of life and sperm donors and religion and a grandmother who couldn't remember anyone's name and demons coming round for dinner and vampires bringing them stuffed monkeys... Breathe, breathe... God I can't breathe!
Okay, passing out is good. A nice little nap on the soft and fluffy carpet, with the stars spinning and sound of rushing water in my ears. Oh yeah, breathing would be good too.
Crackers and ginger ale, crackers and ginger ale... I wonder if I should be getting her pickled onions and ice-cream? In the movies they always eat pickled onions and ice-cream. What sort of ice-cream should I get? She likes chocolate, but when she's ill she prefers strawberry with hot toffee sauce, but is being pregnant the same as being sick? Maybe I should get vanilla, just to be on the safe side.
Crackers, ginger ale, vanilla ice-cream and pickled eggs... No, not eggs, pickled onions... Onions.
Willow searched through her pockets for a pen and paper, but came up empty. I always have paper. I'm a student, an ex-geek and research girl, I always have pens and papers and magic markers and those little post-it notes with the smiley faces in the corner. It's a sign. We live on a hellmouth with slayers and keys and visiting psycho gods, it has to be a sign. But a sign of what?
Maybe going to the store is wrong. I could get hit by lightening, or attacked by a demon or vampire out for an early snack... It is pretty dark out, kind of overcast and drizzly, perfect vampire weather, according to Spike. That's it! I'm going to leave the house and get eaten by a three day turned vamp with a hankering for redheaded wiccas.
Crackers and ginger ale, she wanted crackers and ginger ale. I can't make her go without, she could get another bout of morning sickness any minute now, and why they call it morning sickness when it arrives twenty-four hours a day is beyond me. I have to get it, vampires or not, I'll just remember to take the largest holy-water-gun and Buffy's cross. I still don't understand how that works, I mean I may not be a practising Jew anymore, but I'm certainly not a Christian. Weird.
Crackers, ginger ale, ice-cream, pickled onions, holy-water-gun and a cross.
"Crackers, ginger ale, ice-cream, pickled onions, holy-water-gun and a cross. Crackers, ginger ale, ice-cream, pickled"
"Willow?"
"Agh!" Jumping a mile in the air, Willow turned on her girlfriend. "Don't do that! Are you trying to kill me? Being all sneaky pie and hidden terror girl."
"I wasn't being terror girl, I was being 'wondering why my girlfriend's talking to herself in the hallway', girl."
"Oh." I think she's glowing. They always say pregnant women glow, but then she used to glow before, so it's probably nothing to do with the baby. Buffy never glowed when she was pregnant, not that I told her that, she'd have killed me - slayer hormones are not to be messed with. But my baby really glows. "I'm going to the store, do you need anything else?"
"You back in one piece and ready to give me a back rub."
"That can be arranged." To hell with the holy-water, with an offer like that I'll just float over the baddies.
"You okay Will? Not having second thoughts?"
"Second, third, fourth, fifth..." Oh God, don't look sad, I never meant... "All good, baby, all good thoughts. I was just trying to work out which college she'd go to," I'm gonna push for Oxford or maybe Harvard, anywhere but Sunnydale, "and who's going to tell her about the birds and the bees," you are, "and sperm donors," Giles can field that one, after all he did volunteer to be the daddy, "and demons and slayers and...and...and..."
"Okay, I get it." She's so beautiful when she smiles. "But maybe we should worry about the little things first, like choosing a colour for the baby's room and deciding on a name and if she's going to have godparents..."
"And chocolate or strawberry."
"Huh?"
She's beautiful when she's confused. "Ice-cream. Do you want chocolate or strawberry to go with your onions?"
"And again, huh?"
According to a study my mother did on the hormonal influences of pregnancy on the higher cerebral functions, being with child can make you appear stupid, but it's only temporary. "How about I surprise you?" I'll get both kinds and earn some extra brownie points.
"Okaaaay."
Crackers, ginger ale, ice-cream, pickled onions, baby name book and...and....
"Willow?"
"Hmmm?" She's beautiful when she's being all sexy. Sexy! Wow, baby. "Yes, honey, did you want something?" Anything, anytime, anywhere... I think I'll have to ask my mom if she's done any studies on the female partners of pregnant women and their hormone levels.
"I called Dawnie. She said she'd pick up the crackers and ginger ale on her way home."
God, she's smart. Beautiful and smart. Beautiful and pregnant and smart. Beautiful, pregnant, smart and mine. Willow Rosenberg, you are the luckiest woman alive.
The End