Bun in the Oven

bun in oven cover nov 21

Bun in the Oven

An Emery&Chris story

A Chris Evans fan fiction

By avenger-nerd-mom

Chris and Emery spend Thanksgiving in Boston

Warnings: PURE fluff, language

Word Count: 1969

Get to know Emery and Chris in their novella Georgia on My Mind and their follow up collection of short stories

November 2018

Leaning her head against the cool porcelain, Emery wipes the back of her hand across her mouth and reaches up to flush the toilet. She sniffles quietly, too weak to stand.

“You gonna stay in here and puke all day?” Chris laughs, entering through the open doorway.

“Fuck you, you did this to me,” she laughs, closing her mouth quickly after a tiny burp. She holds her breath, praying she won’t be sick again. She sits back, resting against the side of the tub, and reaches for the cool glass of water he hands her. She drinks it down, hating the taste of Boston tap water, the old pipes in the house giving it a metallic taste.

He kneels beside her, wiping her face with a warm washcloth, discarding it in the tub behind them. He pushes her hair back from her face and rests a cooler cloth around her flushed neck. “You’re sure you’re not sick? You seem warm.” Worry and concern fills his voice.

“I’m warm because I tossed and turned all night, and your mother has this house hotter than Atlanta in August!” She snips, holding in another burp. She sighs. “Really, Chris, I’m fine. It’s not a fever. I just need to try to eat something, and maybe nap. But really, the house smells, and it’s making me sick.”

Everything makes her sick these days, but the smell of raw or cooking meat is the worst. “Honey, it’s Thanksgiving. Between the turkey and the sausage for the stuffing-” Chris stops himself, seeing her body convulse at just the spoken words about meat. “Ok, okay,” he chuckles. “I won’t talk about it, but you get the idea. Of course there’s gonna be food smells.”

She rests her head back against his strong, solid shoulder. “I’m hungry,” she pouts. “But that all sounds disgusting. And kill me now if my mother is down there, prepping for noodles and sauerkraut.” She burps again and drinks the last of the water in the glass before sitting it down on the floor next to her. “I want a steak.”

Chris laughs, kissing the top of her head. “A steak? And how am I supposed to do that, without adding to the smells of the house? Or divulging our little secret? Em, why don’t we just tell everybody you’re pregnant, since we have everyone together?”

She shrugs, curling into his chest and breathing in his scent. It’s the only smell that doesn’t make her sick these days. “You smell good,” she says. She tugs the collar of his ratty t-shirt. “Just a while longer. Everything we do is so public. I kinda like it being just us knowing for now. And yes, a steak. Surely there has to be a restaurant somewhere in Boston that’s open. You’re Chris fuckin’ Evans. Make a damn phone call.”

“You’re a grumpy pregnant lady,” he laughs. “What happen to the sweet, demure woman I married?”

“I puked it all out of me… Seriously. This is getting ridiculous. The doctor said the morning sickness should stop by the sixteenth week or so, now it’s nearly week 18 and I’m still puking all day.”

Chris rolls his head, popping his neck. “You can always put in a call to her service? Where’s your wrist bands?”

Her hands fly to her wrists. “Shit!” She looks around the room. “I don’t know. Maybe they’re tangled in the sheets?” One of her message boards for pregnancy had suggested motion sickness pressure point bands to curb some of the nausea, and for the most part, they had helped. Since they’d come home for the holiday, she’d been hiding them under long sweater sleeves.

Chris shifts his weight, his butt falling asleep on the hard tile floor. “You done for now? Wanna shower and I’ll drive around town till I can find you a steak, stop at CVS and buy some more bands?”

“Yeah, I think I’m okay for now.” Emery rolls over onto her knees, pressing her hands against his thighs. “Oh, and get some Captain Crunch.”

Steak and Captain Crunch cereal. The only two foods she can seem to keep in her system. He nods. “Stop it, silly Kitten. Let me help you up.” Chris rocks forward, grabbing the edge of the sink, pulling himself up. Reaching down, he tenderly grabs her elbow with one hand, and her hand with his other, gently lifting her to feet. The light from the bathroom window creates a halo effect around her curls. He sucks in his breath. “Oh, honey, you’re so beautiful.” He pulls her into his arms, holding her tight and kissing the top of her head. “Sorry little Baby E is making you so sick.”

“He’ll be worth it.” She smiles, brushing her cheek against his. Emery loves the clean shaved look for his newest project, Knives Out.

“So it’s a ‘he’ today, huh?” He smiles down at her, running his fingers through her long, hair, carefully tugging at the unruly curls.

She beams up at him. “Whenever I’m too sick, and it’s being a pain in the ass, it’s a he,” she laughs, the sound bouncing off the tiles and he joins in with her. “Don’t even ask. No gender reveal. I don’t wanna know.”

“I know, I know,” he sighs, kissing the tip of her nose. His laugh deepens when her tummy rumbles. “Okay, so I’ll go be your big, strong provider and find sustenance for you and our little one.”

He bends down and places his hand on her belly, his lips brushing against her pale pink tank top. “Hello, little baby. Happy Thanksgiving. Quit making Momma sick. She’s gotta go out and people today, and it’s hard to keep you a secret if you make her burp every five minutes.”

As if on cue, Emery burps again. “Uff,” she complains. “Yeah, please stop doing that,” she agrees, rubbing her belly. “Go, so you can get back. Your mom will want you to start the grease for the turkeys soon. God, you’re gonna smell like oil and turkey for the next three days,” she mumbles under her breath. “And the kids want you to watch the parade with them.”

He kisses her protruding belly, still hidden to the average observer, and rises to tenderly kiss her lips. She pulls back. ”Haven’t brushed, eww.” He kisses the side of her mouth and quietly exits the bathroom.

Hearing her start water for the shower, the handsome actor grabs his hat and keys from the dresser. Taking the back stairs, Chris enters directly into the heart of the house for the festive day. Both their mothers sit at the table, chopping vegetables and Emery’s father stands at the counter, kneading fresh dough for bread. “Morning everyone,” he greets. “Text me coffee orders. I’ve gotta go run an errand or two. Emery caught the flu from the students she worked with this week and isn’t feeling well. I don’t know if she’ll be down this morning or not. I’ll stop at Dunkin on the way home.”

Lisa nods, smiling up at her son when he kisses the top of her head. “Pick up two more cans of green beans, too?”

He nods, absconding with a blueberry muffin from the counter for his drive.

Hearing the front door close, Lisa bumps shoulders with Anita. “Told you she was pregnant.”

Anita laughs. “Fine, fine. You win the bet. I’ll clean out the turkey gizzards.”

***

The kids cheer when the front door flies open and they see Uncle Chris enter the house. “Sit by me,” one of them shouts, patting the couch cushions.

“I’ll back in a few minutes, Pal. Aunt ‘Em needs me to bring her stuff first. Come here.” Chris is hoping none of the adults lurking around the house catch him. He carefully hands the tray of coffees to his oldest nephew. “Take these into the kitchen and don’t spill them. Nonna will yell at us all day if you do.”

The young boy solemnly nods and Chris watches as he methodically and slowly steps towards the kitchen. Satisfied the journey will be successful, he bounds the stairs two at a time, entering his childhood bedroom. Emery is sound asleep. Knowing she’s had difficulty sleeping, he decides to let her rest, leaving the boxed dinner and gift box on the bed.

***

“There’s Sleeping Beauty,” Preston Thomas jokes, announcing the arrival of his oldest daughter to the family gathering. “Waited till all the clean up was done and desserts were on the table, I see.”

“Taught me well, Dad.” She bumps his shoulder, wiping the sleep from her eyes. “Why’d you guys let me sleep so long?”

“Chris said you’ve been sick, dear,” Lisa explains, reaching for an empty plate and offering it to her daughter in law.

“Yeah, and we wanted you rested so you could go out shopping, like our first Thanksgiving together,” says Shanna.

“Yeah, it’s always important to keep with Thanksgiving traditions,” Chris winks at her, hiding his smile behind his napkin. Their first time sharing a bed together had been upstairs, three years before, in the early morning hours on Black Friday. He smiles, seeing the collar of his present peeking from under her cardigan. He puckers his lips together and rises, pulling her close. “You look a little flushed, babe. Too warm? Maybe you should take off your sweater?”

Barely holding in her giggles and her excitement to share their good news, she nods. “Maybe I should. Can you help?”

He stands behind her, slowly pulling the sweater from her shoulders, revealing his gift to her, to the room as a collective gasp is released before the whole room explodes in joy.

bun in the oven

***

Wrapping her up in a scarf to venture out into the cold night air with his sisters for Black Friday sales, Chris smiles down at his beautiful bride, the mother of his future children. He stuffs some cash in her pocket as he did not long ago, on their first holiday together. “Ya know, I think we were standing right here when I first thought about having children with you.”

She smiles, rubbing her thumb over his smooth cheek. “I remember. I felt it too. You looked so cute sitting there with Miss Sassypants. Man, she gave you and Scott a time that night didn’t she?” Their boisterous shouts that night had woken their niece and Carly had left them in charge so she could go shopping.

He nods, smiling at the memory of the late night feast on turkey leftovers. “She’s always had me wrapped around her finger. I’ve had years of practice.” He taps her nose. “I’m ready for my own, Mrs. Evans.”

“Me too, Mr. Evans, a little one of our own…” She tilts her head. “Hey? How did you manage that, by the way? The steak was fresh, like on a real grill, and the t-shirt?”

He chuckles. “Pick up a little something for Tara, for her troubles. Her husband and I cooked, and she used her craft letter cutting thing like you have, and made that up and ironed it on.”

She shakes her head in dismay. “Really, Chris?” She laughs. “You went and bugged Tara today, of all days?”

He shrugged. “She was happy to do it, and their family eats later in the day. It gave us a chance to catch up. I want you to know, it was all my idea.”

Carly and Shanna appear at the door, ready to go. They motion for Emery to hurry up. Shanna teases, “Come on! We’ve got a baby we need to start spoiling!”

Emery giggles and waves her out to the car. She reaches up on her tiptoes, kissing his smooth cheek. “You have the best ideas, sometimes, Mr. Evans. I love you, you know that?”

For reference to their first Thanksgiving together, check out Something to be Thankful For and Late Night Visit

Next Chapter, Snow Fun

Read more about Emery and Chris in their novella, Georgia on My Mind, and their story collections

Copyright © 2018  avenger-nerd-mom. All rights reserved. Intellectual property of avenger-nerd-mom

 

3 thoughts on “Bun in the Oven

  1. Gisela Grey November 21, 2018 / 5:48 pm

    All the heart eyes! And that t-shirt is epic. 😀

    Like

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