Solidarity [Nathan Bateman x Fem!Reader]
Word count: 1.1k
Summary: you have your ultrasound and wish that you had taken your baby daddy with you to the appointment
A/N: This is stupid. Don't look at me.
You step into the town car that’s waiting for you outside the doctor’s office in Oslo. You’re in a daze after your appointment. You barely register the valet shutting the door behind you, the instinctual buckling of your seatbelt, and the vibrating hum of solitude only hits you as you merge onto the freeway outside of the city’s epicenter.
You pick up the tablet on the seat beside you and FaceTime Nathan. Stupid fucking bastard-ass, potent-ass, billionare-ass—
The loading screen swiftly transforms into your “vacation home”, the walls are familiar, though you’re not sure which room it is he’s addressing you from. Somewhere in the recesses if your logical mind you know that there’s zero reason for you to be angry at Nathan, but blame it on your hormones, or shock, or whatever, you’re alone and you’re scared and this is somehow ALL his fault. Nathan’s brow is crunched and it appears as though his tablet is placed on the floor, him answering from above. Too busy to dain to speak with you face to face, huh? Fucking god-complex-ass mother fucker!
“Hey, babe, what’s up?”
What’s up?? Whats UP?? WHATS UP?? He says it so nonchalantly, dipping out of view for god knows what reason. Leaving you to bellow to the view of the vaulted ceilings of your shared secured Norway cabin.
“What’s up?? What’s up???? I NEEDED YOU THERE, BATEMAN, THAT’S WHATS UP.” Hot tears start to slide down your cheeks, the waterworks soften your angry business-like tone into something way too vulnerable for you to unpack right now.
Nathan takes the tablet in hand and gives a proper full face greeting, complete with furrowed brow. He’s scanning your background, you’re sure, to see if anything behind you is amiss. Anything detectable.
“Honey, please spare me the dramatics and just tell me what the issue is, I—“
“the ISSUE!! THE ISSUE is that WEEE, you and me, youuuu and iiiiii…. Are having aaahhh fucking TWINS, NATHAN. TWINS.”
Nathan observes you over the top of his glasses. “Is this a part of the—“
“NO!!! NOOOO, ITS NOT!! its not a part of our BIT. I aahhhhh! I wish it WAS!” You laugh and drag a hand down your face, slumping further into the black leather seats of the town car.
“Just checking—“
“Yeah! YEAH. I knoW!! I know you’re just ‘checking’. BELIEVE ME! I drilled the doctor and her whole damn office for five minutes straight with the stuff, the goop on my belly.”
“What?”
“Yeah. Thanks to us and our little stupid ‘what if it’s twiiiins? oooooohhhoooo’ Ooogah boogah shit we’ve been pulling on each other, I was UNDERSTANDABLY DUBIOUS when the doctor told me that I was pregnant with twins. Plus since you booked the appointment, I was suspicious.”
“Shepherd’s the best obstetrician on the continent. Why else would I move us to this sleepy fucking village? But, babe, You were what? Searching her office for hidden cameras?”
The laughter in his voice makes you furious and your voice hits an octive previously unknown to you,
“I grabbed her by the coat and demanded to know how much you were paying her!! I THOUGHT YOU WERE PUNKING ME”
“Babe, Punking you? that show hasn’t relevant in, what, a deca—“
“FUCK YOURSELF, BATEMAN!!”
“Calm down”
“I can’t be calm!! I need you here!!”
“I offered to go.”
“I know! I know you did! But… I thought! I thought…. I don’t know what I thought… I THOUGHT that I could PROVE myself to you… prove how capable I could be? Could prove what a burden I wouldn’t be… that I could, I don’t KNOW: show you that your life wouldn’t CHANGE too much! That I could raise the baby under your roof with you hardly even noticing…. Or something stupid, I don’t even know anymore, Nate.”
“Hmmm, yeah. Not your best idea.”
“I cannot DO this ALONE!”
“Hey, dumbass.”
“DON’T! I’m hormonal.”
“…. sweetheart?”
You sniff, “that’s better”
“Honey, you’re not alone. Look.” Nathan pulls back the screen and you realize you’ve been looking at the vaulted ceiling of one of the guest bedrooms. On the floor is all the makings of a crib. One that you hearted from the pottery barn website a couple of weeks ago. Is he for REAL?
“I’m… halfway done.” He laughs, “Well more like one quarter of the way done now… Tell Terry to stop by pottery barn on your way back so I can get this shit knocked out today.”
“What? I thought you had a board meeting?”
“cancelled it.”
“Why?”
“Well, I was planning on going to an ultrasound appointment today.”
“You…. You wanted to go?”
Nathan audibly drops his screwdriver and runs a hand from his brow to his beard. “Honey, you gotta stop listening to the voice in your head and start listening to the one in my mouth.”
“Okay. Okay… you’re right. The stress can’t be good for the baby…. babIES.. shiiit.. okay okay…. I’m calm.”
“Good. And pick up some fish from the market, too. You know the spot. Don’t let Lee try to pawn that Dover Sole crap off on you either. Yellow fin, baby, say it with me, yellow. fin.”
“I can’t have fish.”
“Its not for you.”
“SOLIDARTITY. Remember?”
“I’m already 8 weeks into dry-Fuckuary… you’re going to make me give up sushi, too? I thought you said my life wasn’t going to change.” That last bit might have cracked you if it wasn’t for his wry smile and the peek of teeth gleaming against his black beard.
“No fish.”
“Fine. No fish. Just get the crib.”
“Okay, Nate.”
“Honey?”
“Yeah.”
“I know my life is going to change. I can handle some change, alright?”
“Alright.”
“That’s my girl.”
“By the way there’s a fifty percent chance that its your fault.”
“What?!”
“The twins.”
“My FAULT? Honey. Honey fuking bunny. Lets not start this ‘fault’ shit again.”
“She said. She said if they’re fraternal it’s my fault, and if they’re identical it’s your fault.”
“Doctor Shepherd said that? Really? She said “fault”?”
“No. She said ‘responsible’.”
Nathan scratches his beard.
“Okay then. If they look the same, I’ll raise them and if they look different, then you’ll raise them.”
Your easy smile is returning to your face. He might be an asshole, but he never fails to put a smile on your face. “And if we can’t tell?”
“Then plan C. Parent trap them.”
“I’ll move to London with one and you move to Napa with the other and we’ll meet up again when the twins find each other at summer camp and devise a ruse to get us back together?”
“Not for nothing, but I’d make one helluva vineyard farmer… with a smoking hot gold-digger assistant.”
“I can see it. With the hat, too. On horseback.”
“I’ll have Maggie look into some winery real estate. Tell the driver to get off at the next exit for pottery barn.”
“Are you tracking me??”
“I track the packages for my charging cables, of course I’m fucking tracking you, honey.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too. Don’t forget the fish.”
“Nathan!”
“Joking. Solidarity.”
“Solidarity.”
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