DISCLAIMER: Murder in Suburbia and its characters are the property of ITV. No infringement intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: trancer asked for Ash & Scribbs fpreg crackfic and this piece of insanity was the result.
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
Ash looked down on Scribbs as if she'd just been found guilty of mugging elderly disabled nuns and selling the proceeds to feed her crack habit. "You're what!"
The blonde tried to look innocent but she wilted like yesterday's tulips in the face of Ash's glare. "I'm pregnant." For some reason best known to overly priced psychiatrists, Scribbs decided that her partner's bulging eyes and throbbing temple were a signal for her to elucidate. "With child. Got a bun in the oven. Knocked up."
"How could you!" Ash tried to reign in her temper and keep from shouting, at the top of her lungs, in the middle of Sainsbury's, but the provocation was too much. "And who, might one ask, is the father?"
Even the nosiest of shoppers had by this time deserted the aisle and Scribbs was left without the safety of witnesses to her possible demise. "You are."
"That no good, slack-jawed... Me?" A moment of stunned silence was quickly followed by Ash's version of a death glare. "Are you winding me up?"
Scribbs shook her head. "It's your baby."
Convinced that her normally slightly kooky but generally sane friend had been poisoned with some kind of hallucinogenic, Ash pulled Scribbs closer and lifted a hand to her forehead to check for a fever. "You feel a little warm."
"Stop that." Scribbs reached into her coat pocket and withdrew the document she'd had her doctor sign. "Read this."
Ash scanned the paper. "Is this English?"
Scribbs peered closer. "Bloody doctor's handwriting," she muttered. "It says I'm pregnant, approximately nine weeks, and doing well, in case you were interested."
Ash looked dubious.
"Fine, if you say so." The translation of which was clearly, 'you're deluded Scribbs but I'll soon have you comfortable in your own padded cell'. "But where does it say the spawn of Scribbs is mine?"
The doctor had been a little unwilling to include details of the father, as he'd insisted on calling the co-parent, so there was a distinct lack of evidence when it came to Ash's involvement. Not that a good police officer let a little thing like lack of evidence stop them from getting their man or woman, in this case. "It has to be yours, you're the only person I've slept with in months."
Two heads peered around a shelf of baked beans after hearing the latest development but one growl from Ash had them scurrying away in fright.
"Slept, Scribbs, as in falling asleep in the same general vicinity, not as in baby-making rumpy-pumpy." Ash let out a big breath and tried to hold back the tension headache she knew was building behind her eyes. "And even if we had ... done more than sleep, I still couldn't be the father." After a quick check to make sure the aisle was still clear Ash pointed vaguely in the direction of her navel. "I don't have the equipment."
"Equipment or not, it's still yours."
"It is not!" Ash would have stomped her foot but she had rules against public displays of childishness. "You're obviously suffering from some sort of delusion brought on by stress."
"I am not stressed!" Scribbs' screech echoed down the aisle and guaranteed them another five minutes of uninterrupted squabbling. "I'm hormonal, pregnant and frustrated. Not necessarily in that order."
"This is ridiculous, I can't talk to you when you're in one of your moods." Ash started to move off but Scribbs grabbed hold of her arm and began pulling her in the opposite direction. "Scribbs, what are you doing? You're making a scene!"
Scribbs didn't stop moving until their travelling side-show had crossed the shop and come to rest beside a shelf containing a spectacular array of pregnancy test kits. "I'm going to prove it to you."
"You're mad," Ash muttered, "totally and utterly bonkers."
After checking several different boxes Scribbs declared one the winner and propelled them both towards the checkout. She might have to wait until the kid was born for the paternity test but Scribbs was determined to at least prove one of her assertions before the night was out. "You've got to promise me," she said, "that if this proves I'm pregnant, you'll at least entertain the possibility that you might be the co-parent."
"Sure, why not, just because it's biologically impossible it doesn't mean it can't happen, right?" Ash's sarcasm was met with watery eyes and suddenly the terse inspector felt mean for raining on her friend's delusional parade. "Okay, if you are pregnant, I'll give it some thought." Scribbs' smile brought one of equal wattage to Ash's face, before a suspicion slowly formed in the back of her mind. "You're not just saying this to get me into bed, are you?"
"No," Scribbs scoffed. "I mean we'll have to shag, obviously, but that's not the issue."
"What do you mean 'we'll have to shag'? Is it the second step in some weird lesbian pregnancy ritual no one told me about?"
The checkout girl looked at the two women as if they'd just beamed in from outer space and offered her the choice of pink or blue anal probes.
"Don't be daft." Scribbs paid for their shopping and quickly ushered Ash towards the door and away from prying ears and out of shape security guards. "I just refuse to have a kid with someone I haven't shagged." She shivered. "Far too Virgin Mary."
Ash didn't say anything more until they were safely in the car and halfway to her flat. "We'll have to get married."
The tires hit the kerb and jolted Scribbs out of her shock. "Excuse me?"
"A civil union or whatever they call it." Ash looked serious, a fact Scribbs found rather terrifying. "I know it might seem old fashioned to you, but I think a child needs that sort of stability."
"So you're... Proposing?"
"Yes." Ash's sane inner voice pointed out that she didn't for one second believe that Scribbs was pregnant with her child and therefore there was absolutely no reason to propose to a woman she'd never even kissed, but that side was promptly ignored by the rest of her body that was doing cartwheels and forming a dodgy looking Mexican wave. "I'm asking you to marry me."
The car overshot its parking place and came to a screeching halt in the middle of the communal garden outside Ash's block of flats. Neither woman inside the car noticed.
Scribbs smiled. "Yeah, okay, I'll marry you."
Ash wanted to point out that the word 'okay' really had no place in an acceptance of marriage but she held her tongue and mentally assigned herself the task of handling all their child's English lessons. "Good."
Scribbs' smile threatened to burst her face, so Ash did the only thing she could think of to save serious injury, she leant forward and pressed her lips hungrily to her fiancee's. Both their hands unconsciously coming to rest against the taut stomach beneath which slept their unborn child.
Return to Murder in Suburbia Fiction
Return to Main Page