For vanessa_grier: Guillermo Ochoa

Silence and being sneaky in general was never really your strong suit. Your pregnancy hadn't helped your inability to sneak through the house, if anything it worsened your stealth, if that was even possible. Your husband, on the other hand, was quick on his feet. He would be able to come up from behind you and scare the heck out of you, not even meaning to give you a fright.

Getting out of bed, you thanked God that your husband was a heavy sleeper. Slipping out of the room, you cautiously made you way down the stairs and heading for the kitchen. "Stupid cravings," you muttered to yourself, rubbing your belly as you did so. Opening up the fridge, you growled once you realized that there weren't any pickles in the fridge.

Hoping that there were some in the pantry, you walked over to the pantry. Opening the door, you searched through the racks of food to see if you could find any pickles. Your stomach growled irritatingly so and you rubbed it once more. A kick from your baby made your shoulders droop. "You are so hard to please," you whined to your belly, which enticed your unborn child to kick you again. "When you get out here, I swear."

Getting up on the step stool you had in the corner, you searched through the racks again for the highly delicious pickles that your unborn child was making you crave so often. It honestly worried you and Guillermo deeply. The doctor had said that as long as you drank enough water to counteract the salt concentration in the pickles, you would be fine.

Still, you tried very hard to fight the desire in you, and were epically failing at that currently. Grumbling to yourself, you stepped down from the step ladder and set it back in the corner. Turning around, you bumped straight into your husband, who had been leaning against the door frame. Letting out a small shriek of surprise, you calmed down when you realized it was your husband.

His chuckling immediately caused your eyes to narrow. "It's not funny. Scaring a pregnant woman in the middle of the night and all," you stated, lightly slapping his arm in frustration. His smile deepened as he leaned down and kissed your forehead.

"I woke up and you weren't there. I assumed Baby Ochoa wanted some more pickles, so I came down here to find you digging around the pantry like a madwoman," he chuckled at the end of his statement.

"Ha, ha, ha. Very funny. But, we wouldn't happen to have any pickles, would we?" you asked, batting your eyelashes at your husband.

"You ate them all two nights ago, if you forgot. So, unless you went shopping since then, because I haven't, then the answer is no, we don't have any pickles," he replied, making your shoulders droop.

"Well then, tell your child to stop wanting them so that Mommy doesn't have to go through this process every night," you sighed in exasperation. Leaning down so that he was level with your bulging belly, your husband smiled.

"Hey, you in there. Let your mother get some sleep, we'll get you some pickles in the morning," Guillermo stated, resting one of his calloused hands on your bare stomach. You sighed in annoyance when your unborn child started kicking you more after your husband put his hand over your stomach.

"And now he won't settle down. I'm just going to go back to bed, this baby's exhausting me," you sighed, walking out of the pantry, Memo right on your heels. When you reached the stairs, you huffed in annoyance. Getting down the stairs was one thing while seven months pregnant. Getting back up them was another, much more difficult matter. Grabbing onto the railing, you trudged up the stairs, your husband's hand resting on the small of your back to help propel you forward and up the stairs. "We should install an elevator," you muttered, huffing and puffing. The summer Spanish air was suffocating, its warmth fogging your brain. "Or at least a chair lift, like the ones the old people get in there houses."

"Only two more months, and then little Baby Ochoa will be here," Guillermo assured you.

"If he could get here soon, that'd be great," you mumbled, making it up the last of the stairs. Placing a hand on your pained back, you arched your back in hopes of it bringing you some more relief. Guillermo led you back to your shared bed and picked you up, placing you on your side of the bed. "Guillermo, before you hop back in, can you turn on the fan?"

"The fan's already on as high as it goes," your husband chuckled, pointing to the ceiling fan that seemed to be going a thousand miles a minute.

"Oh, I didn't even feel it," you admitted sheepishly.

"I'll get the one downstairs," your husband smiled, kissing your forehead before he walked out of the room.

"I love you," you called after him.

"You better," he called back, making your smile widen. Guillermo hopped down the stairs, grabbing the portable fan in the living room, and making his way back up the stairs. Plugging it in, he faced the fan at you, who sighed in relief as the cool air hit you.

"Thank you," you smiled, kissing your husband.

"It's no problem. Anything for you and little Ochoa Jr.," he winked. "You're not going to use the blanket, are you?" he asked.

"No, why?" you questioned, rubbing your tired eyes.

"Because it's about the same temperature as the Arctic Circle in here, and I don't want to die of hypothermia tonight," your husband joked, causing you to hit him jokingly on the arm.

"You can have all the blanket you need," you said in a baby voice, throwing your covers over his head.

"Well that wasn't very nice," he teased, pulling them off of his head, causing your smile to deepen once more.

"Good night, Guillermo," you stated, rolling onto your side. "I love you."

"Good night, my beautiful wife and mother of my unborn child. I love you too," your husband replied. Kissing you once more, he turned around and covered his body with the blanket. After a few seconds, he rolled over again. "Is there any chance that we could turn down the fan just a bit?"

"Fine," you mumbled, already half asleep. Sitting up, Guillermo smiled as he admired your sleeping face. Your baby bump stuck out, and your husband lightly rubbed his hand over it. Turning down the fan a bit, Guillermo faced you and wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you against himself as he too fell asleep.