Can I have something short of Roni is pregnant and tries to hint at it to Weaver but he doesn't catch on?
Of course! Below! [701-703]
Rated T-ish.
Roni had insisted on inviting Weaver regardless of the doubts registering in the minds of the other attendees. The others had no idea about the extra curricular activities her and the detective had been up to during hours they couldn’t be found. Or called for that matter.
Weaver had arrived earlier than the others, which surprised her more than anything. And just to add to the shocked look on her face as he strode through the bar door like he owned the place, he was carrying a tray of something covered and warm from the feel of the heat emitting from the item in his hands as he moved past her and into the open space.
“What’s that?”
“Just something.”
“Poison?” A sly grin formed along her lips as she made her way to the bar, rearranging the foods she had prepared for the little gathering. They were celebrating their little triumph with the Community Gardens. Her dark hues stared back up at Weaver as she began to stir a large bowl of cheese for the taco salads she had prepared.
“Not in the slightest.” He closed the gap between them, placing the item onto the table and removing the film. The sweet aroma hit her right in the face as her gaze roamed over the delectable sweet in the container.
“And that is?”
“Baked pumpkin donuts. With maple glaze.”
“Homemade?”
“Yes.”
“Looks good.”
At the glisten in his eyes, she turned then, deciding now was as good a time as any to try and break the news to him. Sure; they had been careful during their little trysts. But apparently their idea of careful hadn’t really been careful enough. Before she could speak though, he had come up behind her - warm hands on her hips. Lips at her ear. “You look good enough to eat.” He growled, heated breath caressing her skin as he dipped his head to her neck.
“I have buns in the oven.” In truth, she didn’t, but this would be her first attempt at letting him know.
“Are they ready to come out?”
“Not yet. Maybe in nine…” He apparently wasn’t catching on as he continued his assault on her neck, lips tasting her skin. “…do you like baby carrots?” Another attempt.
“Steamed?” His hands began to tug on the fabric of her shirt, lifting it up to run along the sides of her stomach. Clearly oblivious.
“What about baby peas?”
“It’s all fine.” He stopped then, noticing how she wasn’t responding much to his advances, hands on her hips - he turned her to face him. “Why are you asking me about food?”
“No reason.” She huffed, tucking her shirt back where it had been before he had pulled it up. Then noticing the disappointment in his face she pressed her lips to his. Settling on needing to try a different approach later, when they will be alone since everyone would be arriving in no time.
“Drink?” He asked, heading behind the bar, thinking that Roni didn’t want to get into anything more intimate due to the fact that the bar wouldn’t be filled with just the two of them for long. Jacinda, Henry and the others would be pouring in through the door any minute.
This was perfect. If this didn’t hit the message across right, she might as well throw in the towel with the subtle hints. “I’m actually not drinking tonight or for a bit…”
She watched as his movements halted, hands leaving the bottle he had hold of that was sitting on the surface of the bar. He leaned on it, then tilted his head in Roni’s direction. “You don’t have an oven here… Roni.”
“No. I don’t.” The fact that it took her declining to drink alcohol couldn’t be a good sign. How much did she drink anyway? She thought back to before she found out and the amounts of shots she preferred to down during the day. Damn. It really was a good number.
He nodded finally realizing what she had been doing the entire time. “How far along?”
“I have an appointment to find out. I’m keeping it.” She added the last in quickly, her hands coming to her hips as she waited for his response.
“Is it’s mine?”
The look on her face at the question told him all he needed to know. But he wanted to hear her say it, so he raised his brows.
“Of course it’s yours.”
“Can I come with you? To the appointment?”
“Of course.”
“What smells fantastic?” Rodgers asked bounding in through the door, a platter of cheesy garlic bread balanced on his non gloved hand.
Weaver just chuckled, shaking his head at his partner before pouring himself a shot of whiskey.
