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Feb. 12th, 2016 03:48 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lang_noriegavosLang shifted her gaze from the linoleum floor to her husband dozing in the nearby chair. He looked like he hadn’t shaved since Monday. She knew he went home at times, but she hadn’t been paying attention to how long he disappeared for. It felt like he was always sitting there.
“Seb,” she croaked.
He startled and looked around for a moment before rubbing the kink out of his neck.
“Go home,” she added.
“Nah,” he said as he pulled the chair up closer to the bed, and propped an elbow up on the mattress with his head in his hand. “I’d rather be here with you.”
She pulled a hand from under her cheek and reached up, running a finger along his jaw, “You need to shave. You look ridiculous. And you smell like cigarettes.”
“Yeah, well…” he mumbled, taking her hand in both of his. He pressed a kiss to her palm before letting her pull her hand back. “What are you thinking about?”
“The baby’s heart monitor is flat compared to mine,” she answered as she tucked her hand back under her cheek with the other one.
Seb raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything.
“It crossed my mind,” she admitted.
“Doesn’t surprise me.”
Lang fell silent, listening to the beeping. Her heart rate had come down closer to where they wanted it but was still high. Her doctor said it could just be stress at this point. Her blood pressure had crept a little higher and now they were keeping an eye on her blood sugar.
“Your doctor says if you can get back to eating—“ Seb started.
“I don’t want to talk about that, Seb, please,” Lang interrupted.
He nodded quickly, “Okay. We can talk about anything you want, babe.” He paused, thinking. “Donald Trump is still a douche bag, but you knew that. I have no idea who won the Superbowl…”
“Beyoncé.”
“I don’t think she played…?”
Lang just smiled softly.
“Hey, that’s what we should call la niña,” he said, smiling back.
“I think that would be copyright infringement.”
He propped his right arm on the pillow above her head and ran his fingertip lightly through her hair. “What do you think it should be?” he asked after a moment of silence.
There was a slight increase in the heart monitor beeping. “I don’t know,” she answered, fixing her eyes on a spot on the floor near where he’d been sitting earlier. Not only was she stuck in bed, but she was stuck laying on her left side. She has all the little specks in the linoleum tiles memorized.
Seb noticed the increase in the beeps and glanced behind him at the monitor. Turning back to her, he brushed his finger over her cheek and leaned in close. “Hey,” he ventured softly, “it’s okay to not know. Paz didn’t have a name until she was a day old already.”
“Really?”
He nodded.
Lang considered this for a moment before saying, “I don’t want her to get stuck with Steve.”
“Neither do I,” he agreed. After another moment, he asked, “Dutch? Spanish? Klingon?”
She cocked an eyebrow and rolled back enough so she could see him better.
“Hey, Klingon is metal.”
“I think K'Ehleyr is also copyrighted.”
“Minor detail,” he said. “But seriously, you know her better than I do. What is she like?”
Lang frowned and closed her eyes. “She’s feisty,” she said. She pulled her hand from under her cheek again as she opened her eyes. “Here, come here,” she added, motioning for him to move over. He followed her instructions and let her take his hand. She placed his palm low on her belly, below the elastic holding the monitor sensors in place. “There.”
He sat there silently, watching.
Finally, she said, “Spanish.”
“What?” he asked, looking over at her.
“Her name should be something Spanish.” She paused, then added, shaking her head, “But she’s still getting Vos.”
“Okay. Fair enough. You know, I could just get Paz to help me compile a list of names.”
Lang thought for a moment. “Joaquín is Joachim in Spanish, right?”
“I think so,” he answered, confused.
“His wife was Saint Anne, who was the mother of Virgin Mary. Saint Anne is the patron saint of pregnancy and she’s probably the only reason we’re able to have this conversation.”
“Lang…”
She brushed it off, shaking her head, “You thought I only went to church for the choir.”
Seb let it go. “So…Santana? That would be Saint Anne,” he supplied.
As she turned it over in her mind, she said, “I’m not going home between now and the birth, Seb.”
“No, probably not,” he answered, frowning, looking at his hand still on her belly. He pulled it down and scooted back over to where he’d been earlier.
Lang tucked her hand under her cheek again and let the silence settle between them as she watched him. She knew her doctors were still considering scheduling her for a c-section and hadn’t come to a decision yet, but either way, Lang knew it was down to a matter of days.
Seb folded his arms on the mattress and rested his chin on his forearms. His nose was a breath from hers. “If you want her to be Santana, then she’s Santana,” he whispered.
She smiled, the first real smile in a long time. “Yeah.”
“Seb,” she croaked.
He startled and looked around for a moment before rubbing the kink out of his neck.
“Go home,” she added.
“Nah,” he said as he pulled the chair up closer to the bed, and propped an elbow up on the mattress with his head in his hand. “I’d rather be here with you.”
She pulled a hand from under her cheek and reached up, running a finger along his jaw, “You need to shave. You look ridiculous. And you smell like cigarettes.”
“Yeah, well…” he mumbled, taking her hand in both of his. He pressed a kiss to her palm before letting her pull her hand back. “What are you thinking about?”
“The baby’s heart monitor is flat compared to mine,” she answered as she tucked her hand back under her cheek with the other one.
Seb raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything.
“It crossed my mind,” she admitted.
“Doesn’t surprise me.”
Lang fell silent, listening to the beeping. Her heart rate had come down closer to where they wanted it but was still high. Her doctor said it could just be stress at this point. Her blood pressure had crept a little higher and now they were keeping an eye on her blood sugar.
“Your doctor says if you can get back to eating—“ Seb started.
“I don’t want to talk about that, Seb, please,” Lang interrupted.
He nodded quickly, “Okay. We can talk about anything you want, babe.” He paused, thinking. “Donald Trump is still a douche bag, but you knew that. I have no idea who won the Superbowl…”
“Beyoncé.”
“I don’t think she played…?”
Lang just smiled softly.
“Hey, that’s what we should call la niña,” he said, smiling back.
“I think that would be copyright infringement.”
He propped his right arm on the pillow above her head and ran his fingertip lightly through her hair. “What do you think it should be?” he asked after a moment of silence.
There was a slight increase in the heart monitor beeping. “I don’t know,” she answered, fixing her eyes on a spot on the floor near where he’d been sitting earlier. Not only was she stuck in bed, but she was stuck laying on her left side. She has all the little specks in the linoleum tiles memorized.
Seb noticed the increase in the beeps and glanced behind him at the monitor. Turning back to her, he brushed his finger over her cheek and leaned in close. “Hey,” he ventured softly, “it’s okay to not know. Paz didn’t have a name until she was a day old already.”
“Really?”
He nodded.
Lang considered this for a moment before saying, “I don’t want her to get stuck with Steve.”
“Neither do I,” he agreed. After another moment, he asked, “Dutch? Spanish? Klingon?”
She cocked an eyebrow and rolled back enough so she could see him better.
“Hey, Klingon is metal.”
“I think K'Ehleyr is also copyrighted.”
“Minor detail,” he said. “But seriously, you know her better than I do. What is she like?”
Lang frowned and closed her eyes. “She’s feisty,” she said. She pulled her hand from under her cheek again as she opened her eyes. “Here, come here,” she added, motioning for him to move over. He followed her instructions and let her take his hand. She placed his palm low on her belly, below the elastic holding the monitor sensors in place. “There.”
He sat there silently, watching.
Finally, she said, “Spanish.”
“What?” he asked, looking over at her.
“Her name should be something Spanish.” She paused, then added, shaking her head, “But she’s still getting Vos.”
“Okay. Fair enough. You know, I could just get Paz to help me compile a list of names.”
Lang thought for a moment. “Joaquín is Joachim in Spanish, right?”
“I think so,” he answered, confused.
“His wife was Saint Anne, who was the mother of Virgin Mary. Saint Anne is the patron saint of pregnancy and she’s probably the only reason we’re able to have this conversation.”
“Lang…”
She brushed it off, shaking her head, “You thought I only went to church for the choir.”
Seb let it go. “So…Santana? That would be Saint Anne,” he supplied.
As she turned it over in her mind, she said, “I’m not going home between now and the birth, Seb.”
“No, probably not,” he answered, frowning, looking at his hand still on her belly. He pulled it down and scooted back over to where he’d been earlier.
Lang tucked her hand under her cheek again and let the silence settle between them as she watched him. She knew her doctors were still considering scheduling her for a c-section and hadn’t come to a decision yet, but either way, Lang knew it was down to a matter of days.
Seb folded his arms on the mattress and rested his chin on his forearms. His nose was a breath from hers. “If you want her to be Santana, then she’s Santana,” he whispered.
She smiled, the first real smile in a long time. “Yeah.”
