Moira hung up the phone after calling her mother and updating her on how things were going. They saw each other every Sunday but that didn’t stop them from calling each other regularly. She had not told her mother about her newfound friendship with Harraël. She didn’t feel comfortable telling her yet. Not wanting to get her hopes up in case it all fell through and he got tired of her company.

And considering he’d cancelled on her two hours prior to the ultrasound, she was glad her mother wasn’t aware of his existence.

That reminded her she'd have to interrogate him later.

Sighing, she got up from her spot on the couch and went to her bedroom to get dressed into more comfortable clothes. An oversized t-shirt and yoga pants, nothing special.

She grabbed a bottle of water for later, and some sushi from the fridge to eat now. The lunch earlier hadn't really filled her up and she loved sushi. It had been one of her biggest cravings during the pregnancy, along with ice cream. Unfortunately, when discussing her diet, Dr. Patel had told her it was time for a 9-month hiatus from sushi. Although seafood was a great source of protein, raw seafood could also be a source of harmful parasites and bacteria. The FDA recommended pregnant women only eat fish and other seafood that had been cooked thoroughly. That meant she could still eat sushi, just not the ones with raw or undercooked fish. So instead, she'd turned to vegetarian sushi. Which wasn't as good as the regular kind, but she'd survive. Just two and a half more months and she could go back to normal.

She ate in peace, then put her plate in the dishwasher and left for the doctor's office.

“Hello I am here for my 4 o’clock appointment with Dr. Patel.” She told the lady at the reception, once she'd arrived.

The lady nodded, “Take a seat.”

She got called in barely minutes later. And sat down on the examination table.

"How are you doing, Moira?"

"I'm good! Ollie kicked for the first time, about two weeks ago."

The doctor smiled, pulling on medical gloves and gesturing for her to lay down. "That's great to hear. Did you have any complaints?"

Moira shook her head, and laid down. Lifting her t-shirt, already familiar with the routine. "Not really, just the usual stomach aches every now and then. And my feet are killing me but I try not to overburden them too much."

She inhaled sharply as the chilly gel was being rubbed onto her belly, after which the wand –or transducer– followed. It emitted sound waves, as it rubbed the area. These sound waves bounced off structures –otherwise known as the baby– to produce an image they could view on the video screen beside the examination table.

"There's Ollie." Dr. Patel announced, having picked up Moira’s nickname for the little munchkin.

The grainy quality made it a little hard to see its details but still, the baby-shaped figure on the screen was as clear as day. It was only when the doctor handed her tissues that she realised she was crying.

"Everything looks perfectly healthy, have you been following the diet?"

She nodded, not being able to talk.

"Have you changed your mind about keeping the gender a surprise?"

Frowning, she kept quiet. Thinking for a second and then making a decision, she sniffed out: "It'd be more fun to keep it a surprise, but smarter to know. I want to be prepared."

"So, you would like to know?"

Moira nodded again, causing Dr. Patel to turn to the screen.

"Do you see this dot?" She pointed, "that shows us your baby has a male genital organ."

It dawned upon her what the doctor's words meant, and she began crying even harder. Darn hormones.

"Congratulations, you're having a boy."

She barely managed to squeak out a "Thanks." before snorting into a tissue.

30 minutes later, she was back at her apartment with a grainy printout of the sonogram in her hands. With swollen, red eyes and all. She hadn’t let go of Ollie’s picture since Dr. Patel had given it to her. Intending on calling Harraël and telling him the news of Ollie being a boy, she fetched her phone from her purse.

Her heart sank when she remembered she was supposed to be mad at and disappointed in him. The joy of knowing Ollie’s a little fella made her forget her frustrations.

She settled on sending him a text instead, so they could work things out. He had a whole lot of explaining to do, and she needed to voice her honest feelings for once.

- H, can I come by real quick? We need to talk. -

She awkwardly shuffled to the kitchen to start preparing tonight’s dinner: spinach-ham quiche. Occasionally glancing at her phone, hoping to see a text from Harraël. But she had nothing.

After putting the quiche in the oven, she once again looked at her phone but there was no new text.

Even after the quiche was done and cooling down on the counter top, he still hadn’t answered. She’d had enough, and decided to take matters into own hands. Taking the elevator up to Harraël’s penthouse.

She rang his doorbell and an eternity later, someone finally opened. It was the man of the hour.

“Hi baby.” Harraël said, and for a moment, she stared hard at him. Puzzled and just plain confused. Where the hell did baby come from?? Not that she liked it or something, though the butterflies in her stomach and her blazing cheeks proved her otherwise.

His eyes weren’t as focused as they usually were, and he was leaning against the doorway for dear life.

Was he fucking drunk?

“Jesus Christ!” She exclaimed, horrified while staring at the half-empty bottle in hand. “Did you drink all that?”

“I’m not drunk.” He protested, clearly misunderstanding the question. Pausing to take a long sip from the vodka bottle, he smiled to himself.

She buried her head in her hands and groaned loudly. Great, perfect, just what she needed. Planning to talk to her friend, but being stuck with a drunk man-child.

He swayed a little on his feet. “I’m so sorry, baby girl. I know I upset you by not coming along to the ultrasound but I didn’t mean to! Management forced us.” His face paused.

She tried to ignore the newfound petnames, trying to focus on what he was saying.

“Management?” She questioned, confused. “What do you mean?”

Then he gasped. “Do you know Bones?”

“No.”

“Oh. Well, that’s my band.” He took another sip, running a hand through his curly hair. He hummed lightly to himself. “We’re really good too, you should hear us play sometimes.”

A band? Just when you thoughts things couldn’t get more confusing, they did.

"Why hadn’t you told me about umm.. Bones, before?”

“I didn’t want you to see me as Harraël Stones from Bones, but Harraël, just your Harry.” He confessed, avoiding eye contact.

“What? But I-“

“Stop talking, buttercup!” He clasped his hand over her mouth, successfully shutting her up. “Let’s party.”

And then, he began dancing, very clumsily and extremely awkwardly, while tripping over his own feet.

As she stared at his stumbling form, she felt a suddenly strange sense of fondness.

She absolutely hated drunks, they made her feel endangered somehow? Or less safe anyway. And not to forget uncomfortable, especially is she was sober. Harraël, however, was nothing like the stereotypical drunks. He looked adorable with his rosy cheeks, messy hair and not to forget the never-ending smiles he’d been shooting her.

He plopped down on the floor, staring up at the ceiling with a smile gracing his features. She sank down beside him, leaning against the wall. Standing for too long didn’t do her feet very well.

“Moira,” He actually giggled a little, “can we cuddle?”

She’d automatically rested her head on his shoulder, but rushed back up at his words.

“I understand if you don’t want to.” He said before she could reply. She watched him carefully. His eyes were closed and his face looked so relaxed. “I mean, you’re disappointed in me. I could see it in your eyes when we said our goodbyes this afternoon.” He paused before standing up, swaying on his feet again. “I’m going to go find some more booze.”

“No,” She instantly got to her feet, grabbing a hold of his arm.

“Why not? I’m thirsty!” He whined, his words slurring together. He squinted at her. “Did you know you’re beautiful? I could look at you all day long without getting tired of you face.”

“Umm.”

“Let me blow in your ear.” He giggled again for a moment and did just that, blowing into her ear. Moira recoiled from the sensation, trying not to laugh. It tickled.

She tried to sound stern. “Harry, I think it’s time for you to sleep.”

“No.” He said firmly, trying to get out of her grasp.

She clenched her teeth and tried to keep a hold on him. Maybe some food would do him good, and someone to tuck him in? She made up her mind.

“Alright, let’s go to my apartment then.”

And just like that, he was back to his happy, drunk self. “Okay!”

She reached for the bottle and took it out of his grasp, he –unexpectedly– let her do as she wished. Quickly dropping it into the trash can, she grabbed his house keys from the trey. She pulled him outside, into the hallway and locked the door.

“Come on, H. Let’s go.”

“Exciting!” He began going to the elevator, resembling a zombie by the way he walked. “We’re going on an adventure.”

Once they were inside and Moira had pressed the button for her floor, he leaned into her, resting his head on her shoulder. He inhaled deeply, smirking. “You smell good.”

“Thanks.”

He burst out in giggles. “Jolly!” He swatted her arm. “Are you flirting with me?”

“I’m not flirting with you.”

Harraël snorted, “Yeah right, that’s what they all say.”

She got him off of her, opened de elevator doors and headed to her front door.

“Come on, Harry! Let’s go inside, I made dinner.”

“Dinner?” Harraël tripped behind her. She came to a stop to help him up. Together they staggered into Moira’s apartment.

She pushed him into a chair and told him to ‘stay’ or else he wouldn’t get dinner. He’d nodded obediently and enthusiastically.

She ventured off into the kitchen. And prepared a plate of spinach-ham quiche for both of them. She brought them back to the living room and handed one to Harraël. She ate solemnly, sitting in the chair opposite of his and watching him gobble the food into his mouth.

Her thoughts drifted off once more.

Why had he gotten drunk? On his own at that. She personally had never tried it before, but it didn’t seem like fun. Just sort of, miserable? Had he felt that guilty about cancelling the ultrasound? He appeared to always hold himself together, she couldn’t imagine him losing himself like that.

So many questions, yet no answers.

As she pondered this, she finished her own plate.

She lead Harraël to the guest bedroom, not wanting him to be on his own in this condition. She handed him an old and oversized band shirt of hers to change into and wished him goodnight. Luckily, he didn’t protest whatsoever and she could hear he snores from her own bedroom.

Not much later, she fell asleep with a small smile on her face.