Actions

Work Header

I’m pregnant! Is that what you want to hear?

Work Text:

It’s 12 fucking am, and Bradley has had enough of Stella and the PR team getting up her ass. A tabloid was going around saying that Bradley and Laura were trying to get pregnant, what it meant for America’s two moms and The Morning Show. How was she supposed to fucking know that someone was taking her picture at a 7-Eleven? She only bought those pregnancy sticks as a joke for Laura because it was April Fools’ Day and she wanted to do a silly little prank that only Laura would get. But no! People had to twist it around because they just can’t get enough of Laura Fucking Peterson and America’s Southern Belle Bradley Jackson’s relationship.

Around 10:00 pm she’s started to drown out the PR team who has constantly asked her if she was really pregnant, reassuring her that it was alright if she was, they just wished they were informed ahead of time. After about 26 “no’s” she started to mumble incoherent answers, daydreaming of their supposed dinner tonight at that fancy restaurant, Daniel’s, after missing their reservation because she got held up at UBA, again, and settled for tacos and quesadillas from a food truck they caught on the way home (which, admittedly, was actually very delicious).

Even if Laura swore that she enjoyed their little Mexican feast, Bradley still felt guilty that they dressed up all fancy, expecting to sit down by a window and kiss over the candle (which was dangerous but what’s a little danger for Bradley Jackson?) and ended up eating on the curb under a tree, their butts covered in soot. But Laura looked so soft under the dim moonlight. She remembers how messy the tacos got, but my god, did she look so-

“You got that, Bradley?”

“What?” Bradley said, confused but slightly annoyed from having her reverie broken.

“We were just confirming if this has something to do with the sudden advancement of your relationship or, you know...” He coughed uncomfortably. “A third party.”

Suddenly, that caught Bradley’s attention. A third party. A third, fucking, party.

“Excuse me?” She exclaimed, anger rising in her voice.

“Uh- um, well, we just, have to plan ahead on what to say to the press we- “

Bradley slammed her hands on the table and screamed, “Yes, I’m pregnant! Is that what you want to fucking hear?”

The room became dead silent as everyone looked at her in shock. She swears she saw one of them had their forehead veins pop.

“In fact, I’m going to quit The Morning Show to be a full-time mom.” She continued, standing up from her seat.

“Did I mention that Angel Gabriel actually came down from heaven and told me I’m the next Mama Mary?” She announced, her Southern accent evident in the last words.

“I assure you, every single one of those tabloids is dead, fuckin’ wrong. I did NOT cheat on the woman I love and live with, by the way! Nor am I about to have a fucking child with her!” She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, remembering to use her inner voice.

“I do not care whatever those tabloids say. Whatever statement you release, I do not give a single fuck about it. Now, I am going to go home, to Laura, and ask for forgiveness that I have once again managed to miss our reservations, and hopefully make it up to her in some way. Because Jesus fucking CHRIST I am so tired.”

Bradley has had enough of this bullshit, and she can’t handle it anymore.

“See y’all on Monday.” Before any of them got a chance to say something about it, Bradley was already out the door.

Finally, in the safety of her car, Bradley glanced at her phone’s clock: 12:48 am. She sighed. She knew full well that Laura was waiting for her to get home, obviously stirred as well getting the news about America’s newest sibling. They had a very brief call about it before Bradley had to be whisked away for her impromptu meeting and Laura for her several calls from friends and producers. She felt guilty that Laura has to keep waiting for her, especially when the last week was busy for the both of them. This was their chance to finally have some time for themselves. All she wanted to do was bask in Laura’s reaction for about five minutes and hopefully have sex that night but all of those are off the table tonight.

As the car stops to pull over the curb, relief washes over her as she grabbed her bag and thanked the driver for driving her this late of an hour. She stood in front of the door as she fiddled with her keys, silently cursing herself for keeping so many until the door opened to reveal Laura leaning against the door frame with a sly grin on her face.

“I heard you messing with your keys for a while and felt bad for letting you wait this long.”

Bradley glared at her before aggressively making her way inside and falling face-first on the sofa. Laura chuckled slightly before sitting down next to Bradley and placing her whiskey on the table.

“I take it the damage control team was up neck-deep in your ass today,” Laura said, brushing her hair.

“You have no idea,” Bradley sat up and leaned against Laura prompting her to wrap her arms around her. “They even read out some tabloids and they were all crazy!”

“I had a good laugh earlier when I saw the one that said both of us were pregnant and I was carrying a miracle, menopause baby because you bought three boxes? Am I right?” Laura teased with a smile. Bradley gave her a guilty look eliciting a hearty laugh from her.

“What did you even buy the pregnancy tests for?” Laura smiled pulling Bradley closer to her.

Bradley looked up at her, ashamed of what she’s about to say. “I wanted to prank you.” She said quietly.

Laura tried her best. She really tried her best not to laugh. But the thought of Bradley telling her she was pregnant was just too amusing. Laura gave her a full-bellied laugh, echoing throughout the living room. Bradley couldn’t bring herself to be mad at her, causing her to smile as well. If getting her to laugh like that was at her expense, she’d do it all the time.

“Oh honey, oh honey.” Laura laughed, her hand on her stomach as she tries her best to recover. She looked at her sympathetically and cupped her face gently. “Sweetie, it wouldn’t have worked anyway. But I appreciate the effort.” Laura kissed her temple.

“But I would have liked to try! Fucking paparazzi had to ruin it for me.” Suddenly riled up again, she reached for the remaining whiskey and drank it straight, the heat working its way down her chest.

She went back to Laura and slowly calmed down from her contact, realizing just how tired she was. Laura seemed to notice this as well as she moved closer to slip her hands from Bradley’s waist to the small of her back, enveloping her in a warm, much-needed embrace. Bradley’s grip on the glass softened, returning the gesture while placing her chin on Laura’s shoulder, breathing in her sweet scent causing her to close her eyes in bliss.

“I missed you,” Bradley whispered against her ear.

“Me too.”

Laura took the whiskey from Bradley’s hand, putting it on the table to be forgotten, and led her towards the bedroom, turning on the lamp by the nightstand. Bradley hugged her once more, feeling the last few hours dissipate into nothing. Laura cupped Bradley’s face and gave her a sweet kiss as her other hand slowly moved to her waist, caressing her sides.

“Mmm, you taste like whiskey,” Bradley muttered.

“And you also taste like whiskey.” She chuckled. She continued to kiss her, lips moving gently over her as she took off Bradley’s leather jacket, letting it fall to the floor.

“We can get it tomorrow I know you’re exhausted.”

She took the hem of her blouse, breaking the kiss to pull it over Bradley’s head.

“Thank you,” Bradley told her graciously, her eyes already closed, hands still on her waist.

Laura hummed in reply. She slipped away to grab Bradley’s favorite shirt, her Columbia shirt, that Bradley refused to wear at first, swearing patriotism to West Virginia College. Bradley let herself fall face-first into their mattress, kicking off her shoes and pants, leaving herself in her bra and underwear on top of the duvet.

“Did you read the one that said you secretly had a penis?” Bradley mumbled into the duvet.

“Ahh, that I do. I actually keep it in that drawer over there.” Laura said with a smirk.

“Shut up.”

Laura sat beside her, unclasping her bra, letting Bradley feel the relief of her breast being free. She flipped herself and sat up slightly to remove the rest of her bra as Laura pulled the shirt over her head. Bradley gave a small smile at the cold feeling of the cloth against her skin. Laura pulled the duvet, pulling it over her as she slipped in as well. Bradley snaked her arms from Laura’s stomach to her waist, nestling herself in the crook of her neck and shoulder.

Laura broke free from her grasp, reaching for something by the nightstand. Bradley peeked one eye open, still a bit blurry from darkness and sheer exhaustion. Before she knew it, Laura was wiping her face with a makeup cloth, freeing it from the cakey foundation, feeling like a new person. Laura finally settled in, chin resting on top of her head, hand on her waist as well.

“I swear, everyone was grilling me about leaving TMS, reminding me of my contractual obligations. I felt like I was 15 after going home smelling like weed and alcohol.” She joked. “I didn’t even bring the breakfast you prepared for me, all I had was the vodka I snuck in.”

“I should have gone to UBA when I saw you left it on the kitchen counter,” Laura said as she stroked her hair.

Bradley warmed at the thought of Laura going all the way to UBA to bring her breakfast in that little lunchbox that she bought for her along with a little note she always loved reading before the show. Even the annoying little stickers on the tissue wrapped around her utensils.

She sighed. “Nah, you would have been mobbed by the paparazzi and I probably wouldn’t have let you go back home until the show. Besides, it’s Saturday today.”

“Mmm.” Laura hummed. “Let’s sleep until noon and be lazy all day.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Bradley felt herself easily drifting off to a peaceful sleep before hearing Laura mumble.

“Love you.” Laura yawned.

“I love you too.”