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Clarke grins, scraping her thumbnail against the trail of hair leading down from his navel. He’s changed into shorts since they got home, the waistband riding dangerously low on his hips. Clarke whets her lips as she checks him out, wanton and unashamed.

“We would have gotten distracted,” Clarke murmurs, letting her fingers flirt under the edge of his shorts. “And shower sex sucks when you can’t fuck me up against the wall.” She smirks. “Be honest, Bellamy.”

She taps a finger against the spine of his book. “What do I have to do to get you to toss that and kiss me?” she asks, her hips rolling just a little, just enough to tease.

Clarke grins, wicked and dark, sparking heat like flint deep in the core of Bellamy’s spine. She scrapes her thumbnail against the thin skin of his navel, his skin jumping at the touch. He whets his lips in reply, automatic, his throat dry with arousal stirring in his gut. “We would have gotten distracted,” Clarke murmurs, not even bothering to meet his eyes. She clearly checks out his exposed stomach, her eyes trailing to where his boxers peek above the waist of his shorts. She hooks her fingers under them and Bellamy’s hips shift in reply.

“And shower sex sucks when you can’t fuck me up against the wall.” She smirks down at him and meets his eyes, finally. Her pupils are blown. “Be honest, Bellamy.”

Bellamy’s throat seizes and he chokes, because, yeah – she’s not wrong. She’s not light enough for him to press her against the wall and eat her out, her leg hooked over his shoulder either. 

Her smirk spreads when his words get caught in his throat and she walks her fingers up his chest again, spreading across the bent spine of his book. “What do I have to do to get you to toss that and kiss me?”she asks, low, and rolling her hips against his. Bellamy’s hands snap to her hips and he guides them back down, slower, purposeful. 

Hearing the baby’s heartbeat through Maya’s stethoscope is an incredible, if slightly weird, experience. Clarke cries because that’s her default reaction to anything involving progress with the baby, but Bellamy’s eyes are wet when she looks at him too, so at least she’s not alone.

By the time they get home, she’s feeling too much. She’s overwhelmed by baby progress and excited to look at birthing classes and nervous about balancing her upcoming semester at Brown. She’s also still a little bothered from the way Bellamy had looked at her when she stripped to put on the gown for her cervical exam, a low, constant heat between her thighs that’s made worse by the way he curls a hand over her leg in the car, thumb stroking over her knee.

Clarke deals by getting in the shower when they get home, to wash off the morning. They both have the rest of the afternoon free and she wants to take advantage of that, but first, she needs a few minutes alone to clean and collect herself.

–

Post-shower, Clarke pulls on the button-up of Bellamy’s she brought into the bathroom with her and sits on the toilet to pull on a clean pair of underwear. She brushes out her wet hair and then gathers her dirty clothes and leaves the bathroom in a rush of steamy air, dropping everything in the hamper they keep in the corner of the bedroom.

Bellamy is on the bed, stretched out with a book between his hands, and Clarke feels another completely ridiculous stroke of heat. She whets her lips and crosses their bedroom, sliding onto the bed. For a moment, she debates just curling into his side and going to sleep, but she wants him more than she wants a nap. (Besides, she sleeps better after she’s come, the two of them wrapped around each other with no barriers between their skin.)

Clarke throws one leg over Bellamy’s thighs and grins when he looks at her over the top of his book, one eyebrow raised. She walks her fingers up his stomach, under his shirt, and shrugs.

Though Bellamy hates to leave, if only it means he can't keep listening to the baby's heartbeat, he's glad to get home.

Their apartment has been slowly coming together – their kitchen already feels more complete with Bellamy's old kitchen island in the middle of it, and Clarke has begun to collect plants, end tables, lamps, and art prints from her after yoga shopping with Monty. They're still deliberating over the nursery, though they've picked out a crib, not much else has managed to present itself as 'theirs'. He hopes the upcoming baby shower helps him feel more like they've got a handle on things.

Clarke slips away to take a shower – citing feeling gross after yoga – and Bellamy changes out of his pants and into shorts before stretching out with a book he's going to be teaching in one of his classes in the fall on the bed.

He doesn't even notice how long Clarke is gone, because he falls in deep into the book. It's when the bed creaks as Clarke climbs in that Bellamy stops reading, looking over his book to her.

Her hair is still damp from the shower, curling in gentle waves. She's wearing his shirt, one of his missing button-ups that she'd laid claim to her first week in Providence. It pulls against her stomach and Bellamy feels his stomach flip, because their baby.

Though thoughts of the baby vacate his mind pretty quickly.

Clarke moves on the bed, swinging one leg over his waist to straddle him, her hips shift against his as she settles, heat stirring in Bellamy's belly.

He raises an eyebrow. It's not that Clarke has been – more eager than usual, for him, it's that their interest in each other hasn't ever moved from the high-intensity energy that had taken them in February.

It's fucking awesome, honestly. Bellamy's in love and his fiancé is gorgeous and she wants him all the time.

She's smirking, eyes full of heat and Bellamy whets his lips behind his book, the swell of Clarke's mouth making him feel hot all over. Clarke doesn't notice and slides her hand up from where their hips press flush together, walking her fingers up his waist and over his stomach, rucking up his shirt as she goes.

"Sorry," she teases, her voice a full octave lower and gravely. "Did you not want to have sex?"

Maya is probably used to that, as a midwife. Clarke hopes.

She crosses the room to knock on the door, letting Maya know she’s ready, and Bellamy retreats to the rocking chair in the corner. His neck is red, and the tips of his ears, and it’s so obvious they were being inappropriate while she was supposed to be getting changed.

But all Maya says is, “Great!” in her soft, musical voice. She retrieves a tape measure and stands in front of Clarke, smiling. “I’m going to measure you standing up, then I’m going to take a look at your cervix with you on the bed, okay?”

“Okay,” Clarke says. She smiles at Maya and lifts her arms so Maya can wrap the tape measure around her belly. She measures a few different places, including Clarke’s bust — “I’m still wearing my sports bra, sorry,” Clarke says, to which Maya just shakes her head and makes another note on her legal pad — and then sets her tools down.

“You look great,” Maya says, encouraging. “Now, for the cervix examination, I need you to lie on the exam table with your hips as close to the edge as you can get them without losing your balance. I’ll need you to spread your legs for me, as well.”

Clarke sits on the exam table, not looking at Bellamy because she knows she’s going to think about the times he’s eaten her out with her hips on the edge of their mattress, his big hands pressing her thighs apart to give himself plenty of access. She lays back and scoots down until her ass partially hangs off the bed.

Maya puts on a pair of rubber gloves and stands at Clarke’s feet, giving her another encouraging smile. “I’m going to spread your labia so that I can check out your cervix, just with a finger. No cold duck lips, okay?”

Clarke laughs. “Sounds good,” she says, nodding, as Maya pulls up her stool. Clarke spreads her legs, trying not to clam up or wince in anticipation of the tool Maya isn’t using. She’s gotten so used to these exams since she was in high school that her body is conditioned to hate them, but Maya’s hands are gentle and she talks as she works, keeping Clarke informed of what she’s doing.

Clarke looks over at Bellamy, catching her bottom lip between her teeth, and arches her eyebrows at him. She’s never had someone else in the room with her during one of these; not even her mom, when she was younger. It’s a little surreal, especially given the warmth she can still feel swimming around in her gut.

“Alright, you can sit up,” Maya says, and Clarke does her best to wriggle back up the bed. “Next we’ll check on the baby — do you want to get dressed first?”

“Please,” Clarke says. She sits up and gets a glimpse of Maya’s gloves, which are definitely more coated than they should be, and it makes her cheeks burn hot.

Maya gives her a nod, disposing of the gloves in a waste bin and washing her hands. “I’ll be in my office,” she says, as gentle as ever. “Just knock when you’re ready, like before.” Then she disappears, closing the door behind her, and Clarke blows out a breath.

“Note to self: don’t bring your hot fiancé to cervical exams,” she says, meeting Bellamy’s eyes. She laughs and holds her hand out, kicking her feet. “Bring me my clothes, please.”

Bellamy actively tries not to watch Maya give Clarke her pelvic exam. He’s used to watching people see naked or mostly naked Clarke, but even here – at a midwife appointment because she’s having their baby – he’s struck with a profound rush of hot, powerful possessiveness he doesn’t know what to do with. 

The feeling burns through him like hot oil and desire rolled together.

He keeps his eyes on Clarke’s face, letting the gown that falls between her spread knees act as a curtain and doesn’t listen as Maya talks.

It’s a quick exam, honestly and Maya’s throwing her gloves into the trash before Bellamy can even decide if he’s justified in his bout of possessiveness – probably not. She leaves Clarke and Bellamy, so Clarke can change again.

There’s a beat when the door clicks shut and Clarke meets Bellamy’s eyes, her mouth caught in a half-smirk. “Note to self: don’t bring your hot fiancé to cervical exams,” she says, a little low.

Bellamy whets his lips. “Probably not the best idea,” he says, a little throaty. 

Clarke laughs, kicking her feet a little. “Bring me my clothes, please,” she says, bright and holding her hand out to make grabby motions. 

Bellamy rolls his eyes but hands Clarke her clothes anyway. “Yes, Princess,” he says, smirking at her. 

When Clarke is dressed, Bellamy crosses the small exam room to rap on the door. He smiles at Maya when she swings it open. “We’re good,” he says, his voice surprisingly normal for talking to the woman who just had her hands on his girlfriend’s cervix. Or something. There may, in fact, be some details Bellamy probably shouldn’t know.

“Good,” Maya says, walking back into the exam room with Bellamy. She washes her hands again before reaching for the stethoscope around her neck. “So since you’re almost twenty-four weeks, your baby’s heartbeat is actually strong enough through a stethoscope,” she says with a smile. “So if you don’t mind rolling up your shirt, I’d love to listen.”

Bellamy’s eyes go wide as soon as Maya speaks, everything else forgotten. 

She also catches the way he whets his lips, because it sends a stroke of totally inappropriate heat straight to her core. She should have made him leave with Maya.

That thought quickly disappears when she realizes she can’t get her leggings off without sitting down, and she’s gotten used to the height of their bed to get dressed and undressed — which none of the furniture in the exam room, including the stool, matches. Bellamy laughs, soft, and Clarke nearly tells him off but then he’s setting aside the gown and stepping closer.

“Here,” he murmurs, his voice gone a full octave lower. Clarke shivers; she can’t help it, when he sounds like that, all gravel and heat.

Then his hands slide down her thighs, gathering the material of her leggings, and Clarke sucks in a breath as he sinks to a crouch. She keeps her hands on her stomach, to prevent herself from threading her fingers in his hair; they’re in Maya’s exam room. They can’t have sex here.

He kisses the underside of her belly and Clarke bites back a grin. “I should feel bad, right?” he asks, in the same gravelly voice. “For being this turned on right now, right?”

Clarke laughs, low and throaty. “You and me both,” she murmurs.

Bellamy grins and kisses her thigh, then her hip, each press of his lips making her feel warmer. Then he pulls her leggings down in one smooth motion and taps her knee. “Step out of these so I can pick them up,” he says.

Clarke does, and Bellamy gathers her leggings and stands. Impulsively, she reaches for the hem of his shirt and tugs him in close, leaning up for a slow, careful kiss. Clarke grins against his mouth. “We can have sex when we get home,” she murmurs. “Help me tie this gown so we can find out what size beach ball I am.”

Clarke’s laugh is low, rough and makes heat run down Bellamy’s spine. He wants her. All the time, really. But she’s teasing and mostly naked – and he really shouldn’t. He wills himself to stand up, closing his eyes and inhaling, as he gathers Clarke’s leggings.

She apparently, has less self-control because she curls her fist in his Mordor Fun Run t-shirt and pulls him down for a kiss that’s slow and measured. Her tongue slides against his, a gentle tease that’s over too soon. “We can have sex when we get home,” she murmurs. “Help me tie this gown so we can find out what size beach ball I am.”

Bellamy breathes out a laugh, unable to help the way the words go to his gut. He puts her leggings on the exam bed with her shirt before walking behind her to knot the gown. 

When Clarke’s set, she knocks on the door and alerts Maya. The midwife smiles in hello and wether she notices something between Bellamy and Clarke or not, she says nothing. Bellamy sits in the rocking chair, feeling heat on the back of his neck.

“Great,” Maya says, closing the exam door again and reaching for a long paper tape measure on the counter. “I’m going to measure you standing up, then I’m going to take a look at your cervix with you on the bed, okay?”

He’s a little afraid of what happens when the kid joins them, here for real. He thinks he’s going to be obsessed with putting his ear to their small chest and listening to the pitter-patter of their perfect heart.

Clarke grins up at him, her face a perfect mirror of his own – excitement in her eyes and a grin cracking light across her face. “Sounds perfect,” she says with a breathless laugh.

“Couldn’t agree more, Princess,” Bellamy whispers, the nickname slipping out of its own fond accord. He feels the back of his neck flush and he spares a glance to Maya, who seems utterly pleased. It makes Bellamy pause, blinking.

Well, that’s a surprising and different outcome.

“We’ll just have to pop into the exam room,” Maya says, cool and soft and gracious. She sets down her legal pad and pockets her pen in her scrub top, under her sweater. “If you’ll just follow me,” she says, rising out of her chair.

Clarke rolls her eyes and reaches for his jaw, giving him a brief kiss before she Clarke takes another second to grin at Bellamy, then turns towards where Maya’s began to walk. She pushes off the couch by leveraging herself on Bellamy’s knee and he can’t help but laugh, soft, as she stand, one hand on his knee and the other on her stomach.

The exam room is warmer than the rooms at the hospital. There’s the O'Keeffe print, and a Kilmt. Instead of a hard backed plastic chair, there’s a rocking chair with a cushion and a blanket. The exam table is like one he sees at his regular doctor – no stirrups. There’s a stool, next to the bed.

Maya is washing her hands in the sink, the sleeves of her cardigan rolled up. “I’d like to measure your bump’s diameter and take a look at your cervix before we hear the heartbeat,” she says with a smile as she shakes out her hands. “Do you mind stripping for me? I can give you a gown, if you want.”

“Couldn’t agree more, Princess,” Bellamy whispers. He goes red and glances past Clarke at Maya, who doesn’t sound bothered by their levels of affection at all. Clarke rolls her eyes and cups Bellamy’s jaw, turning him toward her for a brief kiss. She grins again and then turns, pushing herself off the couch with some difficulty.

Bellamy laughs at her and Clarke shoots him a playful glare once she’s standing, then reaches for him. “Come on,” she says, wiggling her fingers. He takes her hand and they follow Maya into the exam room, which is somehow just as cozy as her office.

There’s a Georgia O’Keefe print and a Klimt that Clarke loves. The bed is stirrup-free, there’s a rocking chair with a cushion and a blanket in the corner, and there are no obtrusive machines anywhere in sight. Clarke squeezes Bellamy’s hand, giving him a smile.

Maya finishes washing her hands and shakes them out, then reaches for a paper towel to dry them. “I’d like to measure your bump’s diameter and take a look at your cervix before we hear the heartbeat,” she says, smiling. “Do you mind stripping for me? I can give you a gown, if you want.”

“A gown would be good,” Clarke says, nodding. Maya pulls one out of a cupboard and Clarke drops Bellamy’s hand to take it from her.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” Maya says. She ducks out of the room, pulling her sweater around her as she goes.

“I’ll give you some privacy,” Maya says with a gentle smile. She nods to Bellamy before ducking out of the exam room, “Just give a knock when you’re ready,” she says as she closes the door.

Clarke meets Bellamy’s eyes and raises her brow, smirking up at him. “Staying?” she asks, low and teasing.

Bellamy shrugs, hoping for deadpan but he can’t quite keep the grin off his face as she hands him the gown. “I’ve seen it all before,” he replies, dry despite the grin playing across his lips.

Clarke rolls her eyes and tugs off her shirt.

He knows, objectively, he shouldn’t stare. Or be completely undone by Clarke in just her sports bra, her skin glistening with a little sweat. But – she’s gorgeous. Pregnant with his child and stunning. Her boobs are definitely bigger, and while he’s not an asshole he can’t help but notice that kind of thing. He feels heat rush through his gut and he whets his lips.

She steps out of her sneakers and begins to pull at the thick waistband of her leggings before she stops, the leggings halfway down her thighs. Her mouth quirks down, just a flash. “I should have thought that through and sat first,” she says, soft. Her brow furrows.

He realizes, maybe belatedly, that she’s been sitting on the edge of their bed to get dressed, the last week or so. Unless she’s wearing a dress, which she just pulls over her head. She wears a lot of dresses.

Bellamy can’t help it, a chuckle escapes him, when he sees Clarke pouting at her leggings. He sets the gown down on the edge of the exam bed and steps closer. “Here,” he murmurs, too low.

He slides his hands down her thighs, fingertips running along the handful of stretch marks she has gracing one hip. Bellamy sinks, crouching down as his hands wrap around the gathered material of her leggings. He feels hot all over, too hot for the midwife’s office.

Bellamy turns his head and presses a kiss to the underside of her belly. “I should feel bad, right?” He asks, low, pulling her leggings down in a quick motion, “For being this turned on right now, right?”

Clarke recovers when he pulls her a little tighter and it makes something ease in Bellamy’s chest. “I can let you know what my schedule looks like,” she says, level. “Right now I just work at the Y in the afternoons, but my class schedule is definitely heavier than that. I’ll call with a few times that work, if that’s okay?”

Maya nods. “Sounds great,” she says with a smile. “My number on my card is my cell,” she says, a little sheepish. “I don’t have an office phone, so you can feel free to text me if that’s easier.”

Maya asks about their next ultrasound and both Bellamy and Clarke look to each other, unable to hide the flash of excitement. The next one feels so far away, but the promise of seeing their kid is worth it. The memory of the last one makes Bellamy’s heart do backflips in his chest and his fingers itch to reach for his phone, to look at pictures.

When Clarke speaks, she’s still not looking at Maya. Bellamy grins down at her and lets his arm fall lower, to press against the side of her stomach. Hi baby. “Still the plan,” Clarke says, “Any excuse to see and hear the kiddo is a good one.”

Bellamy couldn’t agree more.

The midwife laughs, still impossibly gentle and musical. “Well in that case, you’ll be excited to know I do have to take some measurements of your bump and listen to the baby’s heartbeat.”

Maya tells them they can text her if it’s easier and Clarke smiles, feeling even more at ease. She likes the informality of texting; she doesn’t know how many clients Maya has, but she seems like the kind of person who will be completely attentive to any of Clarke’s needs, which is nice. The longer they sit in her office, the more Clarke likes her.

Bellamy’s grin at the mention of the ultrasound makes Clarke’s heart flip over. When she first told him she was pregnant and they listened to her recording of the heartbeat on her and Octavia’s couch, he’d completely melted into the sound and cried right along with her. Every ultrasound since, he’s been there, holding her hand, talking to the doctor, talking to their kid. Knowing how deeply he loves them makes Clarke love him more, every day drawing them closer in spite of whatever weird stress the outside world decides to throw at them.

They’re a family. Clarke couldn’t have gotten any luckier.

“Well, in that case, you’ll be excited to know I do have to take some measurements of your bump and listens to the baby’s heartbeat,” Maya says, with another musical laugh.

He's a little afraid of what happens when the kid joins them, here for real. He thinks he's going to be obsessed with putting his ear to their small chest and listening to the pitter-patter of their perfect heart.

Clarke grins up at him, her face a perfect mirror of his own – excitement in her eyes and a grin cracking light across her face. "Sounds perfect," she says with a breathless laugh.

"Couldn't agree more, Princess," Bellamy whispers, the nickname slipping out of its own fond accord. He feels the back of his neck flush and he spares a glance to Maya, who seems utterly pleased. It makes Bellamy pause, blinking.

Well, that's a surprising and different outcome.

"We'll just have to pop into the exam room," Maya says, cool and soft and gracious. She sets down her legal pad and pockets her pen in her scrub top, under her sweater. "If you'll just follow me," she says, rising out of her chair.

Clarke rolls her eyes and reaches for his jaw, giving him a brief kiss before she Clarke takes another second to grin at Bellamy, then turns towards where Maya's began to walk. She pushes off the couch by leveraging herself on Bellamy's knee and he can't help but laugh, soft, as she stand, one hand on his knee and the other on her stomach.

The exam room is warmer than the rooms at the hospital. There's the O'Keeffe print, and a Kilmt. Instead of a hard backed plastic chair, there's a rocking chair with a cushion and a blanket. The exam table is like one he sees at his regular doctor – no stirrups. There's a stool, next to the bed.

“That’s definitely doable,” Clarke agrees, giving her a little nod. Bellamy sweeps his thumb against Clarke’s shoulder.

Maya smiles happily. “Good,” she says. “Would the same time next week be doable for you? Have you gotten your class schedule yet?”

Clarke deliberates. Bellamy has her schedule in his phone’s calendar, but he thinks it would be rude to offer it up. “Dr. Higgins said you might want to meet to do other check-ups, as I head into my third trimester,” Clarke says, sounding oddly nervous, “Will those be weekly as well?”

Maya shakes her head, still smiling. “Probably not, but since you’ll be seeing me weekly I could do a weekly check-in, if you’d like.” Maya meets their gazes. “And I have that you’re still up for another ultrasound, at around the 34th week – that’s still the plan, right?”

Bellamy’s thumb rolls over Clarke’s shoulder, keeping her grounded, and she makes a mental note to thank him for being the best, most supportive person in the world as soon as they get home. It’s hard not to freeze up when Maya asks about Clarke’s schedule, because — she’s going to lectures and labs, but it’s still a lot. 

“I can let you know what my schedule looks like,” Clarke says, when Maya tells her their check-ins don’t have to we weekly but can be, if Clarke wants. “Right now, I just work at the Y in the afternoons, but my class schedule is definitely heavier than that. I’ll call with a few times that work, if that’s okay?”

Maya seems comfortable with that, nodding as she jots something else down on her legal pad. “And I have that you’re still up for another ultrasound, at around the 34th week — that’s still the plan, right?”

Clarke recovers when he pulls her a little tighter and it makes something ease in Bellamy's chest. "I can let you know what my schedule looks like," she says, level. "Right now I just work at the Y in the afternoons, but my class schedule is definitely heavier than that. I'll call with a few times that work, if that's okay?"

Maya nods. "Sounds great," she says with a smile. "My number on my card is my cell," she says, a little sheepish. "I don't have an office phone, so you can feel free to text me if that's easier."

Maya asks about their next ultrasound and both Bellamy and Clarke look to each other, unable to hide the flash of excitement. The next one feels so far away, but the promise of seeing their kid is worth it. The memory of the last one makes Bellamy's heart do backflips in his chest and his fingers itch to reach for his phone, to look at pictures.

When Clarke speaks, she's still not looking at Maya. Bellamy grins down at her and lets his arm fall lower, to press against the side of her stomach. Hi baby. "Still the plan," Clarke says, "Any excuse to see and hear the kiddo is a good one."

Bellamy couldn't agree more.

“We will,” Clarke says with a nod. She smiles.

Maya seems less concerned than Clarke does about feeding schedules; she flushes when Maya brings up the fact that the baby won’t have a set schedule, not for a while, and nods, sheepish. “Having a pumping schedule is probably a great idea, though,” Maya says, giving Clarke a smile that’s all reassurance. Clarke ducks her head for a moment.

“I normally recommend new mothers take a breastfeeding class as well,” Maya continues. Clarke looks up again and their eyes meet as she talks. “I know your plate is a little full right now, so I’d be willing to meet with you weekly to give you a cliff notes version, if that’s possible?”

Clarke nods. “That’s definitely doable,” she says, soft. She wants to ask, do you think it’s stupid for me to be pursuing medical school at this point? But Maya has already told Clarke that her first semester shouldn’t be too bad, for her or the baby, and Clarke doesn’t want to come off as the kind of person who obsesses over those things. Normally, she isn’t.

At least, not to this extent.

Since Clarke gave up on her art school dream, she’s wanted to pursue medicine at Brown. It’s ridiculous that her advisor and her mom have gotten so far into her head that she thinks she can’t do it, just because she’s pregnant. Clarke’s life has changed a dozen big and small ways since she found out about the baby in April and she’s so glad for all of them, grateful even though she spent the first few weeks of her pregnancy angsting over how to tell Bellamy.

It’s just— the closer she gets to September, the stupider it seems to be pursuing something she really isn’t sure she wants to do, now that there’s so much else. And she doesn’t know if that’s her hormones talking, or just some deep-seated need to do something other than medicine that she’s never managed to shake. Maybe it’s both.

“Dr. Higgins said you might want to meet to do other check-ups, as I head into my third trimester,” Clarke says, instead of asking about medical school. “Will those be weekly as well?”

Maya purposes an adapted breastfeeding class for Clarke, to make her schedule a little more manageable. It’s incredibly considerate and makes Bellamy like Maya all the more. 

“That’s definitely doable,” Clarke agrees, giving her a little nod. Bellamy sweeps his thumb against Clarke’s shoulder.

Maya smiles happily. “Good,” she says. “Would the same time next week be doable for you? Have you gotten your class schedule yet?”

Clarke deliberates. Bellamy has her schedule in his phone’s calendar, but he thinks it would be rude to offer it up. “Dr. Higgins said you might want to meet to do other check-ups, as I head into my third trimester,” Clarke says, sounding oddly nervous, “Will those be weekly as well?”

They both turn back to Maya then, Clarke settling further into the crook of Bellamy’s arm. “I think birthing classes are a great idea,” he says, louder now, the words meant for the room and not just for Clarke. “Are there certain ones we should take?”

Maya takes over the conversation again, writing as she speaks (which is a skill Clarke envies). She looks — pleased, like Bellamy and Clarke have somehow surprised her. Clarke is so used to their PDA scaring people off that it’s nice to see someone seemingly unconcerned with it, maybe even happy about it.

Clarke is really, really in love with her soon-to-be husband. She thinks natural birth is going to bring them even closer, and let them bond with their kid in a way a hospital birth wouldn’t, and she can’t wait to experience that in the same way she can’t wait to meet their kid. It all feels overwhelming and wonderful, the kind of anxiety that makes Clarke feel fluttery instead of scared.

“I plan to work in at least one pre-natal yoga session a week, once I start classes,” Clarke reassures Maya, smiling. “If we’re doing birthing classes I want to make sure I give myself enough time for everything.”

Maya nods, tearing a page off her legal pad and handing it to them. “These are the classes I think would work best for you,“ she says as Clarke takes the paper. "I’ve included the numbers and names of each teacher. You should give them a call and see if they can register you for group classes.”

"To-do list,” Clarke says, grinning as she hands the sheet to Bellamy.

“Now,” Maya says, turning her attention completely to Clarke. “Speaking of classes, I’m assuming you are planning to breastfeed?”

Clarke nods, squeezing Bellamy’s thigh. “Absolutely,” she says. “I’ve been reading about establishing feeding schedules and pumping, for down the line when I have to go back to work,” Clarke says. She blinks. “Or… school. Whichever comes first.”

“I plan to work in at least one pre-natal yoga session a week, once I start classes,” Clarke reassures Maya with a smile. Bellamy nods as well, because – it’s good, that Clarke wants to keep doing yoga. Monty’ll be stoked. “If we’re doing birthing classes I want to make sure I give myself enough time for everything.”

Maya laughs, the sound quiet and musical. “You don’t have to take all of the classes I listed there,” she says, nodding to the list that gets passed to Bellamy as Clarke says, to-do list.

“Especially if you’re going to school and doing yoga,” she says, meeting Clarke’s gaze for a beat before she turns to Bellamy. “And I’m sure you have work as well, and you’re both going to have to make your home ready for the baby at some point … don’t stress too much about taking all the classes. Pick one that works best for the both of you.”

When Maya asks about breastfeeding, Bellamy is at least a little prepared for the conversation. They’d talked about it a little in July and it’s come up again after that. 

Monty has taken it on himself to coordinate a shower for Clarke which, when he’d asked, had felt like too much, like they were asking their friends to go above and beyond for them, but – Miller told him to shut up and accept that they’re just as invested in Bellamy and Clarke’s freakishly perfect family as they are. So, when it came time to provide their friends and Clarke’s dad with a registry, Clarke had asked to put a pump on the list. He knows she wants to breastfeed their kid. Breastmilk is really good for babies and also, coincidentally, vegan.

But the logistics of it are a little lost on him, if he’s being honest. If only because his only experience with it was his mother, not being able to produce for Octavia and thus, teaching him how to make formula. 

So, Bellamy’s pretty pro-breastfeeding. 

Clarke nods at Maya, her thumb pressing against the inside of his knee when she does. “Absolutely,” she says. “I’ve been reading about establishing feeding schedules and pumping, for down the line when I have to go back to work,” Clarke says. She blinks. “Or… school. Whichever comes first.”

Bellamy blinks at the slip-up too. They’re going to have to talk about this sooner or later. And he’s not sure if later is a good idea.

“That’s good,” Maya says, smiling at Clarke. She’s nonplussed by Clarke’s word choice, though if it’s intentional Bellamy wouldn’t know. “Though honestly, I wouldn’t put too much stock in creating a feeding schedule, especially in the first six months. The baby’ll change their schedules pretty rapidly, as they grow and adjust to life outside the womb. Having a pumping schedule is probably a great idea, though.” 

“That’s all good,” Maya says, nodding. “Are you seeing a nutritionist, currently?”

Clarke nods’ “I did start taking an omega three supplement and a b-twelve supplement when I got pregnant, though, just to be safe. My weight gain wasn’t great at the beginning because I was extremely stressed, so my doctor recommended a nutritionist to get me on the right path.”

Clarke exhales audibly when Maya asks about medical school. Bellamy drags his thumb against the inside of Clarke’s thigh. “Brown University, starting the first week of September,” she says. When Maya asks about leave, she worries her lip. “They have a generous deferment program, but I’m kind of determined to get through as much of the first semester as I can.”

Maya nods, as if sensing that’s not all to the story - though, it mostly is, but Bellamy can feel all the words Clarke could say, what she could add.

“Obviously when I give birth, I’ll take time off,” Clarke says, softer. “But for now, I think school is manageable.”

The midwife nods again and offers Clarke a small, generous smile. “You’re in your first semester, so that’s as good a time as any,” Maya explains, in her gentle voice, “Since this semester will be mostly lecture and one or two labs, there’s not as much stress you could be under. I’d just advise you to go slow and be easy on yourself if you can’t throw yourself entirely into the semester. I can also write you a note for your professors, to make sure they are accommodating.”

Clarke turns to look at him when he speaks and Bellamy feels a flash of nervousness, hoping he hadn’t overstepped. But Clarke just gives him a wide smile, on that radiates in his chest, warm all over. She stretches up and noses at his jaw. Bellamy turns his head in reply, kisses her temple.

Maya doesn’t comment and when they’re finished, Clarke shifts to rest her head on his shoulder, one hand falling over her stomach. Bellamy moves his hand from her thigh and pulls his arm around her shoulders. “He’s going to be an amazing dad,” Clarke murmurs, softer than Bellamy thinks she realizes. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, I love you.

She shifts on the couch, Bellamy leaning away as she does, giving her the space to find comfort before he leans back in. He wonders if the baby’s moving, or if her back hurts, or if she’s sore from yoga or –

“I read that the bonding experience between infants and parents is significantly enhanced by natural birth, which sounds ideal. But I’m honestly concerned about pain? I don’t have a high tolerance for it…” Her expression finally cracks, revealing the nerves underlying her joy and excitement over having a baby.

Maya nods, smiling at them again. “That’s a completely valid concern,” she says, smooth, “and one that a lot of pregnant people have. I’ve been assisting in birthing – both natural and hospital births – for six years and honestly, everyone is different. But what I have found is that natural birth, while not pain-free, is the most comfortable way to deliver. Natural birthing combines pain management techniques with your body and your labor.”

Maya reaches for a small booklet on the stand next to her chair. “This is a small zine I put together with several other nurse-midwives while we were completing our graduate degrees,” she says, passing it to Clarke. “It's… a little bit manifesto, a little bit informational,” she admits with a sheepish smile, “but it offers some different resources you can check out on your own.”

“The while there are many differences between a hospital birth and a natural birth, the main difference with natural birthing is that we don’t want to intervene with the natural labor process unless it is absolutely necessary. So that will mean your labor is longer, but it will make it more comfortable. No one is being forced to do anything that they don’t want to do. If you gut says that walking around will make you feel better, then you can walk around – we actually encourage that, being upright for as long as possible is one pain management technique,” she adds with a smile.

“And there are some herbal allies we can use to assist with pain, if that is an avenue you’re interested in,” she says.

Maya smiles when Clarke mentions pain, looking wholly unconcerned. “That’s a completely valid concern,” she says. “It’s one that a lot of pregnant people have. I’ve been assisting in birthing — both natural and hospital births — for six years and honestly, everyone is different.” Clarke nods, whetting her lips. Maya goes on, “But what I have found is that natural birth, while not pain-free, is the most comfortable way to deliver. Natural birth combines pain management techniques with your body and your labor.”

Clarke nods again, glancing up at Bellamy. He’s circling his thumb over her shoulder, watching Maya with his most focused expression. Clarke rests the hand closest to him over his thigh, matching the motion of his thumb with hers. Maya leans forward then and Clarke looks back at her to find a booklet in her hand. Clarke takes it with the hand that’s on her stomach, inspecting the cover.

“This is a small zine I put together with several other nurse-midwives while we were completing our graduate degrees,” Maya explains. “It's… a little bit manifesto, a little bit informational, but it offers some different resources you can check out on your own.”

“Cool,” Clarke says. She nods and flips through it with both hands, angling it so Bellamy can see too. Maya goes on to talk about some of what Clarke can expect from a natural birth, including movement for pain management and herbal remedies. Clarke nods along, paying attention to both Maya’s words and the zine.

The more she learns, the more she wants to have a natural birth, which is encouraging. It doesn’t help her thought process about medical school at all, but she has to get through one thing at a time. Otherwise, she’ll stress too much and it will be bad for everyone, especially the baby.

“Have you two signed up for any birthing classes?” Maya asks.

“Have you two signed up for any birthing classes?” Maya asks as she finishes her walk through on pain and birth.

Clarke shakes her head. “Not yet,” she says. She peers up at Bellamy, eyes hinting at some of the nerves burning under her skin. “We probably should,” she says, lower and just for him. “There’s a lot more freedom for partner interaction and support if I’m not giving birth in a hospital.” She worries her lip. “I want you to be as involved as you want to be, but birthing classes would give us both some more realistic expectations before the baby comes.”

Bellamy nods. "You know I want to be there, Clarke," he says, soft – his words are only for her, right now, because he can see the pull of anxiety in the drag of her teeth across her lower lip. "As much as I can be," he adds, echoing her words as he holds her gaze, steady. He gives her shoulder a squeeze. "Both for you and kiddo."

He leans in and kisses the corner of her mouth, hoping to push some of the worry from her mouth. "I think birthing classes are a great idea," he says, lower now and turning his attention back to Maya. "Are there certain ones we should take?"

Maya, who has thus far been quiet, though he can see how pleased she is in the way her smile reaches her eyes, nods. "There are no required classes, like a Natural Birthing 101," she says. "Though," Maya adds, her eyes a little wide, "that would be an excellent class –" she makes a note on her legal pad – "there are definitely classes I would recommend for you, as opposed to others."

She flips over the page on her pad, writing as she talks. "Since you've expressed interest in being highly involved, there's classes that focus on the partner method, which I think would be the most beneficial, but there are also Lamaze classes, which everyone likes. And some art therapy-based classes," her pen drags along the page.

Maya looks up at Clarke. "I want you to keep doing prenatal yoga as long as possible," she says, firmer than she's spoken before, but still ever-gentle. "Because it teaches good meditative practice, breathing, and stretches you can do to cope with the pains of labor." She tears off the page on her legal pad and offers it out to Clarke and Bellamy. "These are the classes I think would work best for you, I've included the numbers and names of each teacher, you should give them a call and see if they can register you for group classes."

"That's all good," Maya says, nodding. "Are you seeing a nutritionist, currently?"

Clarke nods' "I did start taking an omega three supplement and a b-twelve supplement when I got pregnant, though, just to be safe. My weight gain wasn’t great at the beginning because I was extremely stressed, so my doctor recommended a nutritionist to get me on the right path.”

Clarke exhales audibly when Maya asks about medical school. Bellamy drags his thumb against the inside of Clarke's thigh. “Brown University, starting the first week of September,” she says. When Maya asks about leave, she worries her lip. “They have a generous deferment program, but I’m kind of determined to get through as much of the first semester as I can.”

Maya nods, as if sensing that's not all to the story - though, it mostly is, but Bellamy can feel all the words Clarke could say, what she could add.

“Obviously when I give birth, I’ll take time off,” Clarke says, softer. “But for now, I think school is manageable.”

The midwife nods again and offers Clarke a small, generous smile. "You're in your first semester, so that's as good a time as any," Maya explains, in her gentle voice, "Since this semester will be mostly lecture and one or two labs, there's not as much stress you could be under. I'd just advise you to go slow and be easy on yourself if you can't throw yourself entirely into the semester. I can also write you a note for your professors, to make sure they are accommodating."

Clarke turns to look at him when he speaks and Bellamy feels a flash of nervousness, hoping he hadn't overstepped. But Clarke just gives him a wide smile, on that radiates in his chest, warm all over. She stretches up and noses at his jaw. Bellamy turns his head in reply, kisses her temple.

Maya doesn't comment and when they're finished, Clarke shifts to rest her head on his shoulder, one hand falling over her stomach. Bellamy moves his hand from her thigh and pulls his arm around her shoulders. “He’s going to be an amazing dad,” Clarke murmurs, softer than Bellamy thinks she realizes. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, I love you.

She shifts on the couch, Bellamy leaning away as she does, giving her the space to find comfort before he leans back in. He wonders if the baby's moving, or if her back hurts, or if she's sore from yoga or –

“I read that the bonding experience between infants and parents is significantly enhanced by natural birth, which sounds ideal. But I’m honestly concerned about pain? I don’t have a high tolerance for it…” Her expression finally cracks, revealing the nerves underlying her joy and excitement over having a baby.

Maya nods, smiling at them again. "That's a completely valid concern," she says, smooth, "and one that a lot of pregnant people have. I've been assisting in birthing – both natural and hospital births – for six years and honestly, everyone is different. But what I have found is that natural birth, while not pain-free, is the most comfortable way to deliver. Natural birthing combines pain management techniques with your body and your labor."

Maya reaches for a small booklet on the stand next to her chair. "This is a small zine I put together with several other nurse-midwives while we were completing our graduate degrees," she says, passing it to Clarke. "It's… a little bit manifesto, a little bit informational," she admits with a sheepish smile, "but it offers some different resources you can check out on your own."

"The while there are many differences between a hospital birth and a natural birth, the main difference with natural birthing is that we don't want to intervene with the natural labor process unless it is absolutely necessary. So that will mean your labor is longer, but it will make it more comfortable. No one is being forced to do anything that they don't want to do. If you gut says that walking around will make you feel better, then you can walk around – we actually encourage that, being upright for as long as possible is one pain management technique," she adds with a smile.

"And there are some herbal allies we can use to assist with pain, if that is an avenue you're interested in," she says.