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“Alright.”
Drew grunted as he got up from a kneel, holding the freshly-pulled bundle of carrots by their fragrant, frondy leaves and giving them a good shake to dislodge the dirt clumps. “That should do it. That’s the last of the carrots for this year, and I’ll get some winter lettuce planted here in a couple weeks. Roserade, do you want to take these inside and put them in the big basket next to the sink, with the unwashed potatoes?”
Roserade chirped agreeably as Drew laid the fresh carrots in her smaller produce basket, and she turned to bring them into the house.
“Thank you, Roserade!” May chimed in cheerfully from where she laid in the hammock, a few paces away from the gardening beds. The two trees that the hammock was tied between shaded May, and dapples of light shone through their dual canopies to grace her face in golden late afternoon glory. The leaves on the trees were mostly still green and yellow, though tinges of autumn teased their slowly-crinkling corners. Southern Hoenn’s autumns and winters were mild; Petalburg Octobers in particular were easy and subtle, a soft swoop into cooler weather. As such, May wore loose checkered pajama pants and a T-shirt which Drew couldn’t even remember whether it was his or hers at that point, and he had his sleeves pushed up to his elbows.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, attempting to brush the grass stains off of his sweatpants and turning away from the garden beds, towards his wife. “Any better than earlier?”
She brightened up. “Yeah, I think the fresh air’s doing me some good! I still feel wiped out, but the migraine’s mostly gone now. Thanks for keeping me company out here.”
“No problem. I’ve been meaning to work in the garden for the last couple days anyway.” He slipped his gardening gloves off and placed them on the edge of the patio table.
“Besides,” he added, his voice gently falling softer, “We’ve only got about seven and a half more months until the baby’s here. I love spending peace and quiet with you, especially while we’ve still got it.”
“Peace and quiet for you, maybe,” she pointed out, though her tone was warm and lighthearted. “I get to look forward to more migraines, more back pain, sore breasts—”
“If I can help with them, let me know. I’d be glad to offer some hands-on support,” he offered, smirking.
She rolled her eyes at him good-naturedly. “—Your sudden attempts at dad jokes, more morning sickness, being internally kicked a bunch, having to pee constantly, and more.”
“Hey, that one’s not appropriate enough to be a dad joke. That’s a partner joke.”
Drew picked up the gardening spade from the ground with one hand, and the empty watering can with the other. He set the watering can next to the hose, coiled up against the wall of the house. “But seriously, let me know if I can do anything for you, for any of it. And the doctor said that morning sickness usually lessens by the second and third trimester. Hopefully that improves soon— I know how miserable it’s making you.”
“Ugh, it better improve soon,” May grumbled.
He tossed her a sympathetic look before returning to the patio table to finish tidying up the gardening tools for the evening.
He felt her gaze on his back as he went back and forth from the patio to their little shed, putting the supplies away; she absently watched his every move. If it had been anyone else, Drew would have found the staring to be unnerving, but when it came from May, it warmed him throughout like the amber-hued rays of sun. He remembered all of his years spent longingly gazing at her when she wasn’t looking, tracing the outline of every feature and trying to memorize her face, her voice, her mannerisms, as if one day, she’d decide to leave his presence and his memory would be all he had left of her.
But now, he got to see his wife’s face every single day, with all the casual admiring that either of them could ever want. And hopefully, in a year’s time, they’d see both of their own features in perfect synergy on a new little face, and they’d be able to find all of the lovingly memorized details of each other in their child; someone else to lovingly commit to memory at every single stage.
Drew swallowed hard and blinked, trying to shake the sudden sting in his throat and eyes as the wave of emotion crashed into him again at full-tidal force. He knew that May’s emotions and hormones were expected to have sudden highs and lows, but nobody had warned him that his own would be quite as raw and surface-level as they were.
Drew knew that he’d love their child more than he could articulate, but he didn’t expect it to be such an overwhelming, overtaking force that only grew with each day, each reminder, each appointment, each mental scan of things to babyproof in the house and garden, each randomly-noticed pretty color that he and May could paint the nursery once they got started on that—
He let out a sharp breath in an attempt to break through the wave and put himself back together. It was a good kind of overwhelmed, but it was overwhelming nonetheless.
“You okay, babe?”
May’s concerned voice cut through his thoughts, and Drew gave her a reassuring nod over his shoulder, finishing his tidying of the garden.
“Yeah. Just... if I think about it for too long, it hits me all over again. I keep thinking that it’s fully sunken in, and then it keeps proving me wrong. You know?”
“I know,” May murmured, resting her arms on the side of the hammock and laying her head in them. She laughed a bit, giving him an appreciative smile. “And I know you know that I know. You’ve dealt with all of my random happy-scared-worried-excited crying spells about it.”
“I’m right there with you,” he said softly.
May gave him a slow, adoring blink, not entirely unlike Skitty did at times (the idea of introducing all of their Pokémon to their baby was an emotional and stressful concept of its own, and Drew shoved the thought aside for the time being), and May extended her arm towards him; a silent bid for companionship, an invitation.
“One second. I’m going to head inside and wash my hands first, since I was just gardening.”
“But you had your gardening gloves on,” May pointed out, pouting. She reached her arm out further towards him, though she remained lazily comfortable in the hammock.
Drew tactfully kept his gaze on the back screen door that led into their kitchen, and not on his wife’s imploring, guilting gaze. He opened the back door with his elbow, calling back to her from the opened window just above the kitchen sink.
“I know, but there’s all sorts of harmful bacteria in the soil. It’s a good precaution to take, especially this early on. I’ll be right there.”
He washed his hands and up his forearms just in case, and shut the kitchen faucet off with a screech of the stainless steel faucet handle. He dried his hands on the blue-and-white towel hanging from the nearby fridge handle.
May’s voice called back to him, growing clearer as he opened the back door. “Just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean you have to totally quarantine me from everything. Next thing I know, you’re going to be wearing those rubber medical gloves and a mask around me at all times, and you’ll refuse to touch me at all.”
Her voice was playfully anguished, and she gave him a long-suffering look that was undercut by her wink.
“I would never do that.” Drew smirked, walking over towards the hammock to lay a cool, freshly-washed hand along her cheek. “I like touching you too much to ever give that up. That’s how we got here in the first place, hm?”
“You think you’re so clever,” she murmured, though she smiled brightly as he leaned down to give her a kiss, with his hand still on her cheek and his thumb gently stroking her face.
She laced her hands behind his head, skimming her fingers through the hair on the nape of his neck. Even still, with all the years they’d been together, Drew felt that little electric dazzle down his spine every time she kissed him.
And to think, years and years ago, his younger self wasn’t sure if he’d ever have a chance with the pretty girl that he liked so much.
Their lips parted with a soft noise, and Drew gave her one more kiss on the tip of her nose before straightening up again. Golden-hour stretched further across their wide, open yard, and near the edges, it crested the bordering trees of Petalburg Woods; off in the distance in the other direction, past rolling hills and trees and a large pond, the buildings of central Petalburg glinted amber and orange. Their house laid on the outskirts of both, in its own serene little in-between.
“It’s almost evening. I’m going to head back inside in a moment and figure out what we’re having for dinner. What are you hungry for?”
“Still the same answer as earlier. I’m not hungry,” May insisted.
In any other situation, his wife’s lack of appetite would have greatly concerned Drew, but instead, he gave her a sympathetic frown.
“You weren’t hungry for lunch, either. You’re supposed to be eating for two, you know, not none. There has to be something you’ll eat.”
“Take it up with our kid, not me,” she grumbled, swaying slightly as she sat up in the hammock. “They inherited your picky eater genes.”
Drew extended a hand to her to help her up. She wasn’t showing at all yet, but he knew that the changes were taking their toll on her already.
She placed her feet on the ground from where she sat in the netted fabric, steadying herself, but Drew kept holding her hand— partially for added stability to help the dizziness, and partially so that he could rub his thumb along the silky-smooth back of her hand.
“You need to eat more than coffee and a granola bar today,” he coaxed. “That’s probably a big part of why you don’t feel good. Can I at least cut you up an apple? Or we’ve got some crackers, or there’s leftovers, or instant noodles, or preferably I could cook you a proper meal, or we could order out. You’ve got options, but you have to choose one.”
May scooted over from where she sat the hammock, motioning for him to sit next to her.
He happily obliged, and as they both situated next to each other, the flexible netted fabric sunk in the middle; a centric gravitational pull, pressing them closer together in mutual contentment.
“You know what I’d eat right now?”
“Hm?”
“Some sushi,” May sighed. She rested her head on his shoulder with yet another sigh, even heavier and more grievous than the last. “The good stuff, with the roe on top...”
“Is there anything that you’d eat other than raw meat?”
“I want a deli sandwich from that little sandwich shop in Paldea we went to that one time, the one with the Mabosstiff mascot and the really nice owners. That, and a hard cider.”
He gave her a dry but mildly amused look. “Other than deli meat and alcohol, too. Something you’re actually allowed to have, and preferably something that isn’t several thousand miles away for time’s sake. I’d like to get you some food that you can eat within the next few hours.”
“What’s the saying? You only want what you can’t have?”
“Unfortunately.”
She leaned back to lay down in the hammock again, and Drew followed, nestling into it until they were comfortably situated together. He rested his hand behind his head, and May laid her head on top of the crook of his arm, almost face-to-face with him, and she comfortably entangled her legs with his.
With the arm that she wasn’t currently using as a pillow, Drew gently slid his hand under her loose-fitting shirt. He rested his hand on her bare stomach, just below her navel, though there wasn’t anything new to feel there yet.
But there would be soon.
He gave her a long, soft look.
May laid her hand on top of his and responded with an endeared but fragile expression.
“Drew, I love you so much, but I swear if you get me all emotional about this right now, and if I start crying about it again, and if that brings back my Arceus-awful headache from earlier, then you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”
Her tone was light and teasing, but he slowly and cautiously removed his hand from her stomach. Drew was an intelligent man with a sense of self-preservation, so he’d never say it aloud, but her mood swings had been fairly noticeable lately— even if she didn’t mean it now, he worried that she might later.
He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Understood. Any more thoughts on dinner?”
At the quick subject change, May tilted her head a bit, as if in consideration.
“I guess there’s one thing that I can have that actually sounds pretty good to me right now,” she murmured thoughtfully, “But...”
He gently disentangled from her, propping himself up slightly; the hammock swayed a bit with the movement. “But what? Is it something I can make for you?”
“Maybe?” She frowned. “I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it for a couple days now, but I can’t remember the recipe. It’s this soup that Brock used to make on the road, back when we were kids. I remember it had potatoes and carrots and stuff in it, but I don’t remember what else it had or how he made it. I helped chop stuff, but usually Brock handled the rest.”
Relieved at the prospect of something she’d actually eat, Drew was already trying to twist around in the hammock to reach his phone before she was even done speaking, but it was deceptively hard to maneuver between the flexible give of the netting and his entanglement with May.
“Tell you what— reach over and get my phone out of my back pocket for me, since it should be easier for you to get it, and we can call him and ask.”
May perked up immediately, and it was already immensely worth the effort that he hadn’t even put in yet.
“Wait, seriously?”
“Yep. We’ve already got the fresh potatoes and carrots and a few other veggies inside,” Drew pointed out. “My phone should be in my left pocket— oh!—or you can just shove your hands in both back pockets, that’s fine too.”
After a moment of exaggerated and needless patting around, May slid the phone out, giving a playful little slap to the other back pocket with her free hand.
She grinned at him. “Found it.”
He took it from her with a teasingly accusatory, suggestive smirk and a quick kiss, and she brought her hands back to her own personal space. As much as Drew loved being touched by his wife in all manners, or shameless lack thereof, it was probably best if she didn’t caress his ass while they were on the phone with Brock.
Drew scrolled down in his contacts— not particularly far, since Brock started with B— and he pressed call.
May silently resituated herself until Drew was flat under her, face to face, and her head rested gently across his chest. He felt her breathing slow and deepen in comfort, and with the hand that wasn’t holding his phone, he gently stroked her hair.
The phone only rang a couple of times before being picked up, and Drew pressed the speaker button.
“Evening, Drew!” Brock’s voice was calm but cheerful; pleasantly surprised. “Or I guess it’s only late afternoon in Hoenn, isn’t it?”
“Hey, Brock. Yep, it’s about four PM here. You’re on speaker with me and May, by the way.”
“Hey, May!”
“Hi, Brock! Hope you’ve been doing well lately!”
“I’m doing great. Just getting the Pokémon at the shelter all ready for bed, and I’m heading home soon. So, what’s up? How can I help you guys?”
Drew glanced at May— do you want to go ahead?
She rested her hands across his chest and propped her chin up on them as she spoke.
“Yeah, actually. Do you remember that soup you used to make, back when we traveled with Ash and Max? The one with the cream and potatoes and stuff?”
“I do! That’s a throwback, isn’t it? I haven’t made it in years.” The gentle clinks of pouring Pokémon food could be heard in the background of the call, and Drew was pretty sure he heard the content, happy grumble of an Arcanine in the back. “That soup was great for traveling, but you can do a lot better with an actual kitchen. What’s got you thinking about it, all these years later?”
She exchanged a quick glance with Drew, and he swooped in before she felt the need to badly lie and make up a reason.
“Do you still have the recipe for it?” he asked.
Brock’s voice was slow and thoughtful on the other end. “I think so? I’m pretty sure that back then, I used the recipe on the back of the powdered mix packets with a few alterations and some added vegetables. I use a much better, similar recipe these days, though, with a real bechamel base. Much better than the powdered to-go stuff. I’m assuming you two want the—”
“The old recipe!” May cut in excitedly. “The same exact way you used to make it, please! It had powdered milk, right? Which brand?”
Drew sent her a dubious look. As a general rule, he preferred his liquids un-powdered.
“Uh, Pokémart’s generic-brand one, in the little individual blue packets,” Brock responded, sounding mildly bemused at her impassioned request. “Same with the dry cream soup mix and the seasoned salt. Back then, I’d just cook with whatever was cheap and would stay good in my backpack for a long time. But you’re absolutely sure you want that recipe? It’s not very good compared to the other one.”
“Yes, please! That’s the only thing I want to eat right now.” She gave a dreamy sigh, and the exhale tickled Drew’s neck. He brushed a piece of hair away from her face as she continued. “I remember it had the really good little broccoli florets and the potatoes that I’d help you cut, and the little carrots... and it had that salty pre-packaged taste to it... Did you add some sort of broth to the mix, or just water?”
“Water. It should tell you how much on the back of the packet— I did the four-serving option for all of us on the road, but there should be instructions for two servings as well.”
Drew gave May another pained look at the idea of a water-and-powder based soup when there was a much better recipe on the table, but she gleefully kept going. “Great! Thank you so much, Brock! You’re a lifesaver.”
“Uh, no problem. And that’s the one you want? Usually your tastes are a bit better and broader than that, May,” Brock remarked, teasing but also curious. “And I thought you didn’t like broccoli florets that much.”
May shrugged as much as she could when laying in a hammock, not that Brock could tell.
“I usually don’t, but they sound pretty good right now.”
Drew shot her a quick warning glance— Brock knew May really well. He’d even shed a few tears at May and Drew’s wedding, which Drew could only assume were on May's behalf. How likely was it for Brock to figure out that it was a pregnancy craving based on that remark alone, he wondered?
“...Huh.”
May and Drew exchanged another quick look at Brock’s nondescript yet thoughtful hum. It was still so early in the pregnancy that they hadn’t even told May’s family yet, much less had they discussed when and how they’d tell each of their friends. That was a hopeful milestone, but not one that was close enough for them to have actively planned out. It had been their huge little secret; it was surreal, how something still as tiny as a pea could be as big as the rest of their lives, but at the moment it was still just theirs. What was the right way to share something still so tiny, yet so life-changing?
“I mean,” she rushed, trying to cover the mildly suspicious remark, “I’ve just been really nostalgic lately, you know? For all of it. I’ve been thinking about the food we used to eat on the road, and the things my mom used to make, and I just remembered it. And I’ve been looking through old photos lately, and there’s that one Max took of Ash almost dropping Pikachu in the soup pot that one time.”
“Half of our dining table is covered in old pictures right now,” Drew added in. May mentioning nostalgia may have been a deflection from her accidental unsubtlety, but it was the truth. Drew had been going through them with her; half past reminiscence, half future anticipation.
Drew didn’t have that many pictures of himself when he was a kid. The main ones he had were all taken by May when they were younger; silly polaroids and grainy teenage selfies on her old Pokégear. He also still had some of the pictures taken during contests and for magazines during the start of his coordinating career, but he had nothing at all like the bountiful pictures May had of her own childhood and journey, from friends and, notably, family. The only family picture Drew could remember of his own was the stately portrait of himself, around five, standing straight and austere in front of his parents, in a frame hanging dusty and solitary on the wall of some penthouse in LaRousse. It was a far cry from May’s childhood pictures, with her scraped knees and muddy shoes and huge, jubilant grins spanning several years and several pages of old Maple photo albums.
Drew wanted fatherhood far more deeply than he feared it, but the remnants of his sparse memories of his own father drove him to be everything his father wasn’t. He wanted to give everything that he was never able to receive— warmth and protection, a dining table spread full of old photos twenty years down the line, and the devoted, fearless love that Drew felt from the moment he and May decided to start trying for their baby, back when the idea of a family of their own was just that; an idea.
Maybe his own childhood hadn’t been seen as worth capturing, but Drew knew he wanted to remember every single moment that he could of his child’s life.
A cool breeze eased through the air, and May snuggled in closer to Drew as she chatted with Brock. Thankfully, she’d kept the conversation going in his lost-in-thought stead.
He came back to the moment just in time to hear the tail-end of something May said to Brock.
“—Really different now, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything, you know?”
“Same here,” Brock said with a warm sigh. “I think back on my traveling days fondly, But these days are pretty great, too. It’s nice not to have to sleep in tents every night,” he joked. “If I tried that today, I’d wake up and my spine would feel and sound like it got run over by an Onix. But still, sometimes I miss seeing the world. Traveling with you guys— well, you and the others, May. Sorry Drew— gave me some of the best days of my life.”
Drew smirked and asked, good-naturedly, “What, running into me every so often wasn’t part of the best days of your life? I always got the sense that you didn’t like me very much at first.”
A little entertained exhale sounded through the speaker. “Heh. Went both ways back then, didn’t it?”
“Wait,” May frowned, “You guys didn’t like each other? But we all get along so well now?”
The line went silent on both ends as Brock and Drew parsed politeness against honesty.
“So—”
“Well— sorry, you first, Drew. Go ahead.”
He rolled his eyes, and May turned her gaze to him curiously.
“I never completely disliked you guys,” Drew admitted to Brock, which was only a little bit untrue. “But I did think that all of Ash’s gym battles were holding May back and distracting her at first. At the time, I didn’t get how traveling with other people could actually improve your skill, but I get it now.”
He’d also been jealous of Ash at first, though the notion was so absurd now that it didn’t even warrant an admission.
“What a thoughtful answer. You want mine?”
Brock’s voice had the same held-back mirth of someone waiting to deliver a punchline.
“Yes! I’m so nosy. Why didn’t you like Drew?” May asked.
“Hey, aren’t you supposed to be on my side?” Drew interjected, mildly miffed.
Brock gave a hearty laugh. “It’s simple. Drew, I thought you were stuck-up and annoying, and I had no idea how you got a girl before I ever did. I used to try so hard with every girl I saw, and then I saw you with all of your coordinating fangirls, but you were always courting May and May alone every time you were within a mile of her—” May glanced at Drew with a soft blush— “And I remember being so irritated and shocked that it actually worked.”
May didn’t even bother holding back her startled, gleeful laugh.
“Wow. Glad I had your vote of confidence there, Brock,” Drew joked flatly.
Brock chuckled on the other line. “Hey, water under the bridge. All’s well that ends well, right? I still remember when you two first met. Slateport Beach, just before her first contest.”
Drew placed the phone in the hammock next to him, using his free arms to wrap around May’s waist.
“Yep. She was practicing for her first contest, and I remember I saw her with that bright pink frisbee and Beautifly, and—”
“And you were trying your hardest to piss her off just for five minutes of her attention,” he interjected, amused.
“Yeah, Drew. Rude,” May teased, nudging his leg with her knee and smirking down at him. “That was no way to treat your future wife.” And the mother of your child, she mouthed silently.
He smiled up at her; a soft, dazed, how-did-my-life-end-up-working-out-like-this smile. He wished he could go back in time, to all the times he’d wished for even the briefest hint of moments like these. He would have taken even the rarest glints of this kind of joy back then, the faintest whispers of it, a life he dreamed of but never thought he’d actually get to hold— but now, it was just his life in its entirety. Even the worst days were still days that his younger self never would have imagined he’d get to have.
“I fell in love with you so young that I didn’t know how to be mature about it, I guess, but I must have done something right along the way,” he replied softly, rubbing little slow circles on the small of her back.
“We were so little,” May murmured. In response to his touch, she traced little mindless patterns on the fabric of Drew’s shirt, right over his heart. “Not even teenagers yet. Well, Brock, I guess you were fifteen, but still. It went by so fast, and— and it’s going to keep going by even faster, and— I mean, ten is just so young to be off on your own like that.”
May’s voice had started to noticeably shake as the emotions caught up to her.
Drew’s eyebrows furrowed. Oh no.
On one hand, seeing May upset was one of the hardest things for him to deal with; not because he found it bothersome, but because May was the only person whose emotions he truly felt as his own, as if they had used Destiny Bond on each other. If one of them got emotional, then the other wasn’t far behind, especially as of late. It wouldn’t have taken much to convince Drew that new parents re-bonded with each other just as much as they bonded with their new child.
And, on the other hand, Drew really didn’t want to sleep on the couch on the off-chance that May remembered and meant her joking threat from earlier.
He carded his fingers through her hair. “May, it’s okay. C’mon, baby, don’t— you’re going to re-trigger your migraine, remember? Uh, Brock, we’ll call you back later or tomorrow, okay?”
Drew fumbled around the hammock for his phone to hang up, but with a quiet thunk, it fell through one of the netted holes of the hammock, and Brock’s voice came from the ground.
“Wait, what happened? Is May crying?”
“I’m fine,” she wavered, though the loud, wet sniff proved otherwise. “I’m not upset, I’m just having a—sniff— a moment. I’m so sorry, I know this is a stupid thing to cry about, but I just, I got all nostalgic, and it’s making me emotional. It’s so stupid, I’m sorry!”
Drew felt her actual tears starting to soak through his shirt now. He opened his mouth to comfort her more, but before he could speak, Brock’s voice rang out from the phone on the ground.
“It’s not stupid. Pregnancy hormones can be a lot to deal with. Be patient with yourselves and each other.”
May and Drew both froze, looking down at the phone in stunned silence.
A split second later, she looked back at Drew with wide eyes, mouthing a quick, guilty apology as she wiped away a tear from her cheek with the collar of Drew’s shirt. He shook his head to her, dismissing the need for her to apologize. If anything, he was more surprised that Brock had brought it up so directly rather than the fact that he’d figured it out in the first place, given the trajectory of the conversation. Drew should have thought to just text Brock instead.
May was the first to gather herself, though her voice still shook.
“I can barely eat anything, I’m exhausted all the time, everything makes me cry right now, and then I feel dumb for crying over nothing and I cry more,” she admitted, pushing herself up from Drew’s chest and to a semi-seated position. Drew adjusted accordingly until he could slide an arm around her waist and kiss her cheek as she vented, side-by-side in the hammock. “Brock, I’m so sorry that we didn’t tell you properly and that I’m being such a mess about it. You’re the first person who knows, I didn’t plan this out at all.”
“Wait... really?” Brock’s voice fell far softer, almost wondrous. “Nobody else knows yet? I’d have kept my suspicions to myself if I knew that, I’m sorry for butting in! I could just hear that you were getting emotional, and I know how important it can be to have someone tell you it’s okay to feel everything. One of my sisters was the same way before she had my nephew, and she said she felt like she was going out of her mind.” He gave a soft, sheepish laugh. “I guess in the moment, I was in big brother mode when I probably should have kept my mouth shut.”
“It’s okay! No, I appreciate it,” May insisted. She lifted her head from where it had been buried in Drew’s shoulder, and small wet spots remained from where she’d been crying. Her voice was steadier, though. “And yeah, you’re the first person to know. We’re still pretty early, and we’re going to tell everyone else once I’m further along, just to be safe— closer to twelve weeks or later, if I can keep my mouth shut for long enough. Which might be a little harder than I thought.”
“How far along are you guys right now, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Only about six weeks. May had an ultrasound appointment a couple days ago, and early— one second, sorry. Now it’s got me emotional again, too.” Drew cleared his throat after the voice break before continuing, with a fragile smile, “Early heart function is there, and it looks really healthy so far. So, it’s still delicate, but everything is looking good right now.”
May sniffed again and rested her cheek on his shoulder, and he gave her a gentle pat on the back.
“Love you,” he whispered, soft enough that the phone wouldn’t pick it up.
Her lips brushed his face, right next to his ear as she breathed the words back to him.
“That’s wonderful news. I’m so happy for you both, congratulations! And I won’t tell anyone, don’t worry.”
“Even if Solidad happens to gets nosy and she starts asking you questions?” Drew asked knowingly, despite the fact that he and May were probably going to tell her soon regardless— if only because she’d figure it out even faster than Brock when she visited next week.
“Ah, Solidad. I always did like her. But no, even she won’t drag it out of me. I’ve known so many of you for so long now, and you learn to keep secrets pretty well.” Brock chuckled. “I accidentally let one of Misty’s secrets slip once, and I barely made it out alive. Learned my lesson. It’s sealed away in stone, don’t worry.”
“Thanks. And, you know, I was wondering. What tipped you off about it?” May asked.
“Well, for one, I’ve got... one, two, three... six... ten… let’s see, twelve total nieces and nephews now, and I’ve got a sister-in-law who’s due in two months,” Brock responded warmly. “You get a sixth sense for it after the fourth or fifth new baby in the family, and apparently that sense works over the phone as well. Plus... you guys really weren’t subtle. I didn’t think you were trying to hide it that hard, honestly. All the reminiscing over childhood, and the emotional swings, and you mentioned migraines, which can be hormonal, and, uh, I also can’t think of any other reason that anyone would prefer powdered soup mix over a much higher quality recipe. That’s pregnant person logic. Especially since you’re pretty good in the kitchen, Drew— your skills are wasted on the shelf-stable version. And May, I know your love of good-quality food. There’s really no other reason anyone would want the worse recipe.”
“Hey, whatever gets May to eat right now is a good recipe in my book. I’ll head to the store after this to get what we need,” Drew said.
“Tell you what, I’ll also email you in a minute and send you guys the better version of the recipe for later, too. It tastes a heck of a lot better, and everything in it cooks down to be fairly soft. It’ll be great for when you start introducing more solid foods to your little one.”
“Our little one...”
May repeated the words slowly and delicately, and she pulled away from Drew’s embrace again just enough to look him in the eyes. Her eyes and face were tinged red from crying, but a breathless, congested laugh escaped her lips, and Drew’s heart felt like it was going to burst from the sheer force of the joy that slammed into him again.
Their little one.
Something about hearing it from someone else for the first time made it feel real. Their little one existed outside of their fragile, precocious bubble now.
Drew brought his hand to May’s cheek again, brushing the wet tear trails away, and he pulled her into a kiss. If there were no words for how he felt, then actions would have to suffice; she readily leaned into the kiss, fastening her lips to his.
It held a different kind of heat than the enthusiastic flash-fire kisses that they both knew quite well; this was something deeper and stronger, a full-fledged devotion passed between their lips.
Gently, he pulled away, but he rested his forehead against hers; Our little one, he breathed again, placing his hand on her unshowing stomach again.
Brock coughed on the other line, interrupting the suspicious silence that had fallen. May and Drew broke apart.
“It’s getting late in Kanto, and I’ll let you guys have your moment. But if either or both of you need any advice, you know where to reach me, and I know that any of my siblings who have been through it would all be happy to talk to you.”
“Thank you so much, Brock! And I know Drew and I didn’t plan to tell you, or, well. Anyone like this, but it feels so good to have someone we can talk to about it!”
“And thank you for the soup recipe,” Drew tossed in. “Both of them, good and bad. Seriously, I haven’t been able to get May to eat all day, and you have no idea how relieved I am to have something I can make for her.”
“Any time! And, man,” Brock sighed wistfully. “Time really does fly. If someone told me almost two decades ago, all the way back when we were kids in Hoenn or Kanto, that I’d be sitting here with this news today... Even way back then, I think deep down I’d have believed them instantly. Congratulations again, you two. You’ll both make great parents.”
And with that, Brock hung up, and the screen of Drew’s phone went dim on the ground below the hammock.
For a moment, he and May just sat in the waning daylight, swaying on the hammock as autumn quietness enveloped them once more. The emotional riptides had evened out into a softer flow again, and Drew took the moment to appreciate the rushes of emotion in their entirety. It was a lot, but he'd never wanted anything less.
May let out a long sigh.
“Well. What a phone call. At least we know what we’re having for dinner, though.”
Drew pushed himself forward, and his legs felt unsteady once his feet hit solid ground again. He kept one hand on the hammock while he knelt down to pick up his phone, and then he extended a hand to May to help her out of the hammock.
“I should head over to the Pokémart before it closes so that I can get the stuff for the soup. Want to get dressed real quick and come with?” he offered, pulling her up to stand in front of him. “It might be good for us to get out for a bit. Clear our heads, and moving around a little might help you work up a bit more of an appetite.”
“Sure! But keep me away from the baby aisle, or the entire Pokémart will figure it out, too,” she joked. “Hopefully going to the store will be less of an adventure than that call was.”
Drew gave her one more quick peck on the lips before they headed inside together, and he held the door open for her.
“I’ve got a feeling that it’ll be nothing but an adventure from here on out.” He smiled warmly. “Life’s been an adventure ever since the day I first met you, though. It really does feel nostalgic, in a way.”