My most recent fantasy involves twilight sleep, a horrible practice from the 1950’s and 60’s where women were given a mix of drugs during labor and delivery that made them forget the whole experience. It was said to relieve pain but, in fact, the women were suffering natural labor and delivery, just too drugged out of their minds up to make any sense out of the whole thing. 


The sudden squeak of rubber soled shoes on polished floors signaled that apparently sick, demented cow noises, was a good clear signal to trained medical staff that a baby was arriving imminently. Jared moved out of the way of the flurry of arriving staff, to the head of the bed where Jensen had managed to partly drape himself as he pushed and strained to deliver their baby girl.

Staring at the tiny being in his hands, Sherlock seemed in shock, almost unsure of what he had just witnessed. Then as its face scrunched and let out a tiny cry, he could feel his breath catch. She was actually here. The thing that Sarah and John had made together, that once gray bean in the sonogram photo on Mrs. Hudson's fridge, the creation that had sent John into the most interesting cravings and mood swings (he had analyzed every single one), was a living, breathing person...

“I can do that.” He ran up the stairs shedding his shirt as he went, leaving it somewhere in the hallway. He was halfway out of his sweatpants by the time he stepped into his room. He left them in a pile on the floor with his underwear. Throwing things out of his dresser until he found a clean pair of sweatpants, Jared didn’t even care about the huge mess he was making. He grabbed the closest shirt, threw it over his head, and was already snatching the equipment Jensen asked for and an extra shirt for Jensen, before the shirt was even pulled all the way down. Flying down the stairs two at a time, Jared rushed back to his husband’s side.
Lauren winced as she took off her bra and sighed once she was free of it. She made a mental note to go out the next day and by a maternity bra- her breasts were steadily growing already in her 19th week of her pregnancy. They were already heavier than she was used to, and just big enough to make her old B cup bras feel uncomfortable. It was to the point where she was ready to renounce bras all together, but some instinct in her warned that she may not feel that way in the later months to come, so she would keep wearing them.
He knew he was screaming, knew he wasn’t making sense, and certainly knew he wasn’t being a man about this but he didn’t care. All he could think about was the pain in his uterus, his back, and most alarmingly, in his penis and balls. He couldn’t see them over his gravid belly but he knew they must be swollen to the point of absurdity by the way everything down there felt like it was going to explode and not in a good way.
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