Summary: Xander and Anya are expecting a little bundle of joy.
Word Count: 750
A/N: Written for Gabs for her birthday! She said a while ago that she wished there was more (any?) Anya-as-a-mom fic, so here it be. Why do I keep writing pregnancy fic? Is my subconscious telling me something? Anyways, I hope you enjoy, sweetie!
Xander upended the bag onto the kitchen counter and started ticking the items off each raised finger. “Pickles, anchovies, mayonnaise, olives, pumpernickel bread, lemon yoghurt… I’m missing something. What am I missing? Wait, wait, don’t tell me!”
“Xander! It took you over an hour to run and pick up my midnight snack.” Anya pouted and glanced at the clock hanging on the wall above the stove. “Now it’s one in the morning, my feet are bloated to the size of life rafts, my bladder’s making me pee every fifteen minutes, and if you forgot the pecan ice cream and cayenne pepper you’re sleeping on the couch, mister.”
“Cayenne pepper!” he announced with a victorious grin, pulling the spice container out of the grocery bag and shaking it in the air.
She peeked inside the grocery bad and frowned upon finding it empty. “You forgot my favorite.”
“No pecan ice cream? I could’ve sworn I…I… I guess I forgot. But I got everything else!”
Anya sighed. “I’m not hungry anymore.”
“You’re always hungry now. You live to eat. You were so hungry earlier you started licking my arm and saying I tasted like saltwater taffy.”
She rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t hungry then, I was horny and I was trying to spice up our sex life with some new dirty talk.”
“By telling me I tasted like boardwalk candy?”
“Okay, maybe I was hungry and horny, so sue me! I’m a multitasker. That’s a good quality, you know. I can chew gum, balance a checkbook and research new sexual positions online all at the same time.”
“Right, playing catch up with all the new nonverbal cues here but if that was a sign to take you like you’ve never been taken before, why didn’t we…?”
“Screw like wild animals in heat? Well, thirty seconds went by and I wasn’t in the mood anymore.” Her face scrunched up and she choked back a sob. “Me. Me. Not in the mood! What in the ever lovin’ transdimensional hell is wrong with me?”
“Ahn, nothing’s wrong with you,” Xander said, taking her by the shoulders and pulling her into a hug. “You’re just pregnant, that’s all. Weirdness happens. It’s a thing.”
Anya scoffed. “Oh please, I’m just carrying a tiny person in my uterus. That’s not enough to make me wanna stop having orgasms.” She frowned and then looked at Xander with dawning horror. “Is it? Am I gonna stop wanting orgasms? Oh no, no, no, no, no.” She started hyperventilating.
“Breathe, just breathe. In and out. Deep breaths. There’s nothing to freak out about, Ahn, okay? ‘Cause I promise to give you orgasms whether you want ‘em or not. Wait—that came out wrong.”
“Xander,” Anya breathed, placing her palm against his cheek. “Really?”
“I—uh, sure. In a fully consensual way, of course. You got that, right?”
Grabbing him by the collar, Anya yanked him down and kissed him. “Quick, hurry up before the moment passes.”
“What? In thirty seconds?”
Anya unzipped his fly. “Go, go, go!”
“The ticking clock isn’t exactly help—ooohkay, then.” Xander shivered at the feel of Anya’s hands exploring and caressing him. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”
“Wait!” Anya put her hand on Xander’s chest, holding him back. She narrowed her eyes with suspicion. “Did you really forget the pecan ice cream or did you not buy it for a reason? Like, say, you don’t want me getting fat?”
“What?” His eyes strained wide open in panic. “No, absolutely not as in never. I’ll go buy you more. I’ll buy you so much ice cream you can build a fort out of the empty cartons.”
“Oh good. I’ll wait,” she said, stepping back and leaning against the kitchen counter.
He glanced down at his pants hanging around his hips, then asked reluctantly, “Right now?”
She nodded matter of factly. “Yes, I’m hungry again and I can’t focus on cumming until I eat.”
“I…uh…I’ll be back,” Xander murmured, shuffling out of the kitchen with his pants threatening to fall off completely.
He gingerly zipped up his pants with a wince and walked out to his car, sliding into the driver’s seat and staring blindly out the windshield. “Just take it one day at a time. You can do this. Buy the ice cream and come home. Easy. Nothing to it. Just one day at a time for seven more months.” He banged his forehead against the steering wheel and moaned, “Sweet Merciful Zeus, I’m not gonna make it.”