Lien de l'originale: http://yespleasehawkeye.tumblr.com/post/128863967781/olicity-anything-like-me
Genre: angst, Comfort, love
Résumé: Expecting Oliver and Felicity find out they’re having a son and Oliver suddenly has a huge freak out because he remembers himself pre-island and thinks about how their son could be just like him.
I remember sayin’ I don’t care either way
Just as long as he or she is healthy, I’m okay,
Then the doctor pointed to the corner of the screen
and said, “you see that thing right there? well, you know what that means”
I started wondering who he was gonna be
and I thought “heaven, help us if he’s anything like me.”
He’d been silent the whole evening, and Felicity wasn’t going to stand for it anymore. This was supposed to be a happy day, and he was spending it in silence. He’d smiled in the hospital, held her hand, kissed her when they were told, and listened to her ramble over the phone to her mother on the way home and then…nothing.
She finds him in the unpainted nursery, the one they’ve put together with Ava’s old crib and he’s leaning over it with his head in his hands. She checks down the hall once more that their four-year-old is occupied on her bedroom floor with her coloring and then she steps back into the nursery, closing the door behind her.
“Okay,” she says, breaking his reverie. “Talk. What’s going on in your head?”
“Nothing,” he mumbles, pushing up from the crib rails and forcing a smile for her. “Just-”
“Lying to me?” she challenges him, folding her arms over her growing stomach.
He follows the movement of her arms, lingering on the way her arms are slightly elevated due to the curve of her pregnant stomach. He goes over to the chair that she used to sit in to nurse Ava, the one they’d once passed on to Thea and now taken back now that her daughter was growing up. It seemed to be a chair that was intent on staying in the family, and they were all fine with that.
As he sinks into it, Felicity approaches, standing in front of him. “Come on, talk to me,” she tells him. “It can’t be parenting jitters because we’ve already got one and we haven’t messed her up entirely…”
His hands go to her hips, and he leans forward to press his forehead to her stomach. He used to do this with Ava, because this was the closest he could get to her. “We’re having a boy,” he whispers.
“Yeah, we are,” she confirms, and hearing the smile in her tone makes him bit his lip. His silence draws a frown from her, however. “Are you…disappointed?”
“No,” he says quickly, sighing after. “I’m happy, I am, I just…”
“Oliver,” she murmurs, her hands come to the back of his head, closing him in against her. “We’re raising Ava. How can raising a boy be any more frightening than that?”
He cracks a smile against her skin, which she feels from this position. “It’s stupid,” he whispers.
“Tell me anyway,” she insists lightly.
“I’m afraid to say it out loud,” he confesses, and she gets him to lean back.
Awkwardly, she shuffles down into his lap, her legs thrown over the arm of the chair. They curl around each other, the two of them and their little boy in the same embrace. “Tell you what,” she suggests. “Let’s make a game of it. If you think it’s so stupid, we’ll trade. I’ll tell you a stupid thing about this pregnancy if you tell me one?”
He huffs out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Alright, you first though?”
She screws up her face. “I cried at America’s Got Talent last night because my hormones are such a wreck.”
Oliver sighs. “This is a bad game, I don’t think I can beat that one. That’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done.”
She bats his arm and he laughs properly this time. “Shut up, play the game.”
He takes a moment, then nods. “I’m secretly afraid that you’ll throw a shoe at me again when I try to talk you out of wearing heels when they hurt your feet.”
“I’m afraid I won’t lose as much baby weight after our second one.”
“I’m afraid we’ll get the wrong color blue for the nursery and it’ll be the pink/lilac debate all over again.”
“I’m afraid of hemorrhoids,” she murmurs, and when he raises an eyebrow at her she shrugs. “What, they’re very common in pregnancy and I don’t want them.”
“I’m afraid the labours going to be long and hard on you again.”
“I’m afraid that raising a newborn will make me so tired I forget to wake Ava up for school.”
“I’m afraid Ava will get jealous of the baby.”
“I’m afraid my goofball husband is getting so worried over nothing that he’ll look back and hate himself for not being happy about what we found out today,” she breathes, and he crumbles against her.
His head falls against her shoulder. “I’m afraid that he’ll grow up exactly like me, and I’m afraid that I won’t be a good enough father to teach him to be better.”
She’s silent, her arms winding around his shoulders and he closes his eyes. Her fingers creep up the back of his neck and he can feel his anxiety slipping away, shred by shred. She always know show to do this with the simplest of touches, knows all the ways to chase away his demons, and only when he’s taken several long, slow breaths, does she speak.
“Our daughter is a pain in the ass.”
He laughs in short breaths against her shoulder.
“But she’s a good girl,” she continues. “She’s kind to people, she’s intelligent, she speaks her mind but she’s never rude. She cares about people more than I’ve ever seen a kid do. She shares her toys, she compliments people, she’s…the most beautiful pain in the ass in the world,” she decides,
“She is pretty amazing,” he agrees.
“And I attribute all that to you,” she tells him. “All of it.”
“No, really. You nailed this stay-at-home dad thing. You’ve been here with her every single day, for every single moment, and you’ve taught her things far more important than what she’ll learn at school. Okay, maybe not completely, because math and spelling is important too, but you know what I mean,” she shrugs.
He sighs against her again, bringing his hand up to cover his stomach. “But if he’s like me-”
“Then he’ll be a passionate, confident and gorgeous little boy,” she tells him. “You’re worried about the partying, the drinking, the police record? We have to worry about that with Ava too…I mean, what about the goth phase? I’m terrified they’ll get into that.” His smile is weak, but she lifts his chin, pressing her lips to his. “They’re going to terrify us for the rest of our lives, Oliver. We might as well enjoy whatever moments we can.”
“You’re right,” he nods slightly, and her lips press to his again.
“And you are a wonderful father,” she reminds him. “I have every faith that our son will turn out as brilliantly as our daughter.”
“Another pain in the ass?”
“Well, I think that part’s inevitable,” she smirks.
Maybe he's grateful to have you. Maybe we both are.