An Emery&Chris story
Word Count: 3137
Warnings: Language, Domestic Fluff, so cute it’s sickening
Summary: Emery is fed up with snowy Boston winters and misses her hard working husband.
Previous Chapter, Christmas Presents
Tired from a long morning on set, and travel, actor Chris Evans really just wants to crawl in bed and sleep for a few hours. But there’s more work to be done before he can rest. Turning into a familiar spot, he places the car in park, just as his phone begins to ring. Pulling the phone from his pocket, he doesn’t even bother with hellos. “Hey, Kitten, I was just getting ready to call you. I-”
“Christopher Robert!” Emery’s voice shrills through the connection. “You called Dr. Puckett’s office?”
Removing his sunglasses, he rubs his hands over his face. “Shit, they told?” He rests his head against the plush headrest, not really surprised.
“Of course they did. They had strict orders not to give out any information, in case I was being followed to appointments by paparazzi, or whatever.” She huffs and the sound of metal clangs.
“What are you doing?” He asks, sitting up and shifting in the seat. He looks around his surroundings and frowns. “You’re not supposed to be moving around too much.”
“For your information, I had to pee. Baby E is pressing on my bladder. I went to the bathroom, is that okay with you?” Even her Southern drawl is unable to hide the irritation in her voice.
He bites back his chuckle, stretching his legs and pulling the key from the ignition. “I suppose, if you must.” He laughs when she calls him an ‘asshole’ under her breath, his favorite term of endearment. “What’s the other noise I hear?”
Emery sighs. “I’m doing laundry. I was sick, again, this morning, so the sheets needed to be washed. And I’m supposed to get some movement in during the day. I was going to finish this up, eat some lunch, and then take a nap. Hopefully dream about my favorite actor,” she giggles. “He’s kinda cute.”
“You are talkin’ about me, right? I’m still your favorite?” Chris reaches for the bag in the front seat next to him. Getting the conversation back on the original track, he says, “Okay, so I get the doctor’s office isn’t supposed to give out information, but I’m your husband. They even asked for the password, in case I was scamming them. That was good thinking, by the way.” He climbs down out of the rented SUV, and stretches his legs. “You seriously told them not to tell me anything without a written note and video approval?”
He shakes his head, remembering the phone call with the office staff yesterday. He’d made the secretary repeat herself. ‘Yes, Mr. Evans. Sorry, it says here in the chart you are, and I quote, ‘a sneaky liar and can charm anyone’ and we aren’t supposed to give you that information without a written note and video. And if you question it, we are supposed to tell you the video is required in case you might try to forge your wife’s signature.’
Downey had a good laugh over that one, knowing his young bride had his number pegged. ‘Man, she’s got you by the balls. I knew I liked her!’
He reaches for his bag from the back seat, and slings it over his shoulder.
The washer door clangs. “I knew you’d get itchy and want to know. I can’t believe you tried to go behind my back and ask MY doctor the sex of our baby.” He hears the plastic basket drop to the ground. “It’s the first time I’m ever gonna get a surprise and know I’m gonna love it, no matter what it is.”
“I was a surprise,” he says, balancing the paper sack in his arms and reaching for another key in his pocket. “You weren’t expecting me to answer your dating profile.”
“Evans, I’m still not sure I like you,” she sneers. “You know I hate surprises. Oh shit. Hang on. I’m gonna have to call you back. Someone’s ringing the doorbell.”
“It’s probably Joanna’s kid. Wasn’t he supposed to come by and shovel the driveway today?”
“Yeah, but he had three other jobs lined up too. How can I hang up if you’re still talking to me?” He can hear her patter towards the door and he can’t wipe the smile from his face.
The door flies open and a blast of cold Boston air pushes her hair back, loose tendrils swirling around her. “Chris!”
Wrapping his free hand around her waist, Chris gently picks her up off the ground and carries her back a step or two. He kicks the door closed with his solid boot and sets the food down on the stairs before wrapping his other hand under her tousled hair. “God, I’ve missed you. I hope you don’t mind this surprise.”
Placing her on the ground, he bends to kiss her lips tenderly, sucking in her breath. He laughs at the salty tears streaming down her face and kisses the tip of her nose. “I missed you too much, Kitten,” he whispers.
She grabs his sweater and buries her face in his chest, inhaling deeply. “Oh honey, this is the best surprise yet. I really wasn’t expecting you. I was getting too worried about flying to LA alone.” She steps closer and wraps her arms around him, digging her hands in his back pockets. “You smell so good. I need this. Need you.”
He sways on his feet, rocking her gently side to side, to a silent rhythm only he hears. His hands caress over her tangled hair, and he kisses the top of her head. Several moments pass, before a quiet ‘meow’ is heard on the stairs and a little paw scratching at the bag.
“I know you hate surprises. But are you up for another one?” He turns her slightly to see the bag in question. The cat turns and runs away.
“Tasty Burger?” She smiles, her nose sniffing the air. “What’s in the sack?”
Chris grabs her hand in his, and the bag with the other, leading her to the kitchen. “I didn’t know what you’d want, so I got a selection. Fries and onion rings, the chicken parm sandwich and some burgers. And a chocolate milkshake.” He reaches into the large bag, pulling out the peace offering and handing it to her.
She takes a sip, the thick, chocolatey nirvana slowly reaching her lips. She looks down into the large bag, pulling out a sack of fries. “All of it. I want all of it,” she says, grabbing an onion ring looped over some fries. Emery tucks her hand under her growing belly and pulls herself onto the bar stool at the counter bar. “I’m not kidding. I want some of the chicken parm and a burger.”
Chris taps her ass, turning around and taking a knife from the block by the stove. “Fine. We’ll share.” He hands her the utensil. “You cut and decide which part you want, I’ll eat the other half.”
“Which burger?” she asks, nibbling on a fry and unwrapping the chicken sandwich.
Walking to the fridge, Chris opens the matte silver doors and gets two water bottles. “The one with bacon? I think it has gorgonzola cheese on it.”
“What kinda weird Italian crap is that? We don’t have that down South. Kraft and Velveeta. That’s what goes on a burger.” She smiles, teasing him, licking the tomato sauce from the chicken sandwich from her thumb. Biting into the crispy chicken, a glob of the sauce dribbles from her lip. Chris reaches over and tenderly scoops it off, licking his own thumb.
“You’re adorable when you pretend to hate it up here. But Scott sent me pictures of you playing in the snow the other day with Carly and the kids. Admit it, you love it?” Chris asks, hopeful she does indeed love his hometown as much as he does.
“I just wasn’t expecting you to be gone so much this winter, while I’m pregnant. That’s all. I hate feeling like everyone has to take care of me.” Emery chows down another bite of the chicken sandwich, breaking off the stringy cheese with her finger. “I don’t know my way around yet, and Shanna and your mom watch me like a hawk. No one will let me drive in the snow… I don’t feel very independent.”
Chris nods, understanding. “I have a job down South, in a few weeks. Would you like to go home, stay in Savannah, see your family?” He takes a handful of fries, under her watchful eye, and shoves them in his mouth.
Her eyes light up as she bites into an onion ring, pulling the onion from the fried casing. “I’d love that, but we have to see what Dr. Puckett says.” She drops the onion on her plate, but eats the crispy coating. “She was already a little nervous about me flying in a few days.”
“So am I,” he admits. “That’s why I’m home early. I don’t want you flying alone. All of your flight details have been changed, Lucy took care of it.” He looks away from her glare. “I know you hate the idea of your own personal assistant, but it’s been a big help, as long as you keep her in the loop. She’s gotta know your speaking engagements at schools so you aren’t double booked like you were with that magazine interview.”
“I got along just fine handling everything, I still don’t see it’s necessary.” Her new PA annoys her, but she’ll admit, she hasn’t really given the younger woman a chance yet.
“You have pregnancy brain, and keep forgetting things, Em,” he says softly, caressing her arm. “After the baby comes, and the press tour and baby stuff is all over, we can let her go if you really don’t feel you need her. But it makes me feel better knowing you have someone else looking out for you.”
Emery purses her lips. “Okay. Fine.” Her voice is not fine. “She’s temporary. So what changes did you two make without telling me?”
Chris swallows hard, pulling his hand back. “Point heard. Ok? We’ll talk things out. I just wanted to come home, and surprise you. I thought it would be a nice surprise?” He looks at her with puppy dog eyes and smiles when she nods her head. “We can fly out Tuesday, after we see Dr. Puckett, or we can wait and go Wednesday like you originally planned, but we’ll go out to LA together. You still have fittings for your dress Thursday, but the rest of the week is just us, relaxing.” He picks bacon from his sandwich, savoring the smokey flavor. He keeps quiet, holding out another secret from her. He doesn’t want to ruin the surprise that the Downeys and Ruffalos are planning a baby shower for her Friday night when they’re all in LA together. He nibbles another piece of the bacon. “I don’t know when my rehearsals are scheduled yet. Fuck, I hate presenting.”
“Oh, but you look so damn good in a tux. So confident. The Oscars are kinda boring, but watching you makes it fun. It always has for me.”
“Well, at least one of us enjoys it.” Chris stands on the rung of the bar stool and reaches across the counter top. “What’s this?”
“More names, just scribbles really.” Taking a big bite of the burger, Emery moans appreciatively. “That’s good shit,” she whispers. “Gorgonzola. Who would have guessed?” Going in for another bite, she quickly drops it onto the wrapper, clapping her hands together excitedly. “Oh my, God. I know. I have her name! It came to me the other day.”
“I thought we already decided,” Chris says, dragging a fry through the tomato sauce on the chicken parmesan sandwich. Deciding on baby names has been a constant give and take between the pair, trying to come up with something ‘just right.’
“No, you liked it, and I said no combination with anything remotely similar to any ex’s name. That really rules out a lot of names, Babe.”
He playfully swats her shoulder. “So you’re thinking that bump is a girl now?” Chris rubs his hands over her belly, grinning when he feels a little kick.
“I think it’s a soccer team. Whatever it is, it kicks too damn much, makes me pee all the time,” she happily caresses the bump, “and I’m still not over morning sickness yet.”
“This will be a fun flight to LA.” He bemoans quietly, withering from her glaring look.
Emery rolls her eyes and pulls a pen from her hair, her coppery red curls cascading around her shoulders. “Here.” She scribbles something on the page, tearing off the corner and handing it to Chris. “We’re agreed on a middle name, right?” He nods. “Read that. Tell me what you think?”
Looking at the paper he says the name she’s written.
She shakes her head. “No, that’s not right. Read it with a Southern accent. The first syllable? Rhymes with ‘thai.’”
Chris hides his smirk. “If we give her a ‘southern accent name’ no one is ever going to say it right.” He tries again, following her advice.
She grins. “Say it again. With the middle name. The whole thing.” He does, adding the middle name they’ve agreed on and their surname Evans, and she beams with pride. “Don’t you love it?”
He holds back his thoughts, seeing her happiness. “Ok, I wanna hear you say it.” Coming from her lips, the name sounds so much better, with a distinct Southern charm. “Emery, I don’t know… It is, it is very pretty. But this spelling?” He holds up the scrap of paper. “I thought you wanted to make sure to have a ‘normal’ name, seeing how students with difficult names often struggle with it in school.”
“Anyone with language studies could figure out the phonetics, besides, her father is Captain America. Her name will have been heard in interviews, written in magazines, many times before she even starts school.” She takes another french fry. Midchew, she stops and yawns. “Will you at least think about it? I really love it.”
He nods, wrapping up the leftover food. Stealing the milkshake, he takes a long drag from the straw. He’s pretty sure they’ve just decided the name, if Baby E is a little girl. Lord help him, they’d both have him wrapped around his fingers!
He doesn’t really care, as long as the baby is healthy, but deciding a name is so daunting. So many factors involved, and ultimately the name becomes part of the child’s personality. He’s grown used to the name Emery’s presented for a son, based on her family’s traditions, since before they even talked about having children, but their discussion of girl names keeps going back and forth. The list of scribbled names on the pad in front of him is an indication of their indecisiveness.
Until this new name, this name that rhymes with ‘thai’ as the first syllable.
The name that easily rolled off his beautiful wife’s tongue, sounding so right to his ears.
“Have you screamed it yet?”
Emery smiles. “Echoes through the house perfectly. She’ll know when her little behind is in trouble.”
Chris laughs, remembering her mother’s advice. ‘Just make sure it’s a name that rolls easily when you scream it, when you’ve gotta let that kid know he’s in trouble and better come running.’
“Did you check the monogram?”
She swats his arm again, sticking out her tongue. She’d already turned down three names, knowing the monogram would be awful. She’s a Southern momma. Baby E is gonna be swaddled in monograms! She blushes. “It’s not great, but it was like this little voice was saying it to me, like she’s telling me her name.” She rubs her hands lovingly over her belly.
“You heard it, huh?” He asks, doodling the monogram on the pad of paper. He can’t control his gut busting laugh, slapping his hand to his chest for her benefit. “Oh, that’s rich, honey!” He laughs louder as she joins in. “Our brothers are gonna have a field day with that.” When his laughter dies down, he wipes his eyes. “And you swear you didn’t ask Puckett if it’s a boy or girl?”
She crosses her heart. “I swear. And based on old wives tales, I have no idea. It comes out 50/50 every time we swing my ring over my belly, or do the pencil thing.” She shrugs. “The pencil test shows the miscarriage, a boy and a girl.”
Chris rolls his eyes at the legends of the old ways. “Emery, please tell me you don’t believe all that.”
Her voice drops. “Your aunties sure make it seem real.”
“If it was real, Shanna would have five sons by now,” he reminds her, unable to hide his skepticism.
“Whatever.” She yawns, tugging her hands through her wild mane of hair, trying to settle it. “I like the name. It means you can’t tell your mom.” Emery looks at him pointedly. “I like this one. Don’t ruin this name. You know that’s why your number one choice is no longer on the table, right?”
He bows his head. “I know. I got too excited,” he confesses. “But when she starts asking me questions, sometimes I can’t help myself.”
Sneaking the last fry from his wrapper, she smiles. “Just do what I do. I’ve been telling my mom we’re naming the baby ‘Brady,’ regardless of the gender.” She wads up her napkin. “That went over well with her church group.” She giggles. “I think they’re praying for us now. One of the ladies, my old Sunday School teacher, sent a quilt she made, Patriots colors, and wished us luck on our Yankee baby.” She laughs, pointing to the pile of gifts on the table. “Some things from your family are there, too. Names I didn’t recognize, so we need to open them together.” Emery yawns again.
“Maybe later, after you nap.” Chris helps her down off the stool. “The couch, or upstairs?”
Emery pats his arm, reaching for the sack of remaining food, and puts it in the fridge. “I try not to go up and down the stairs any more than I have to.” She turns back around and drinks down the last of the milkshake. “The couch in the office,” she nods down the hallway, “is wide. I’ve been taking naps there. It’s big enough we can snuggle down together?”
Aiming his napkin for the trash can, he shoots. It bounces off the side and lands on the floor. Blushing, he rushes up to it, retrieving his trash and dropping it in. “A nap sounds like the perfect way to spend a winter afternoon.” Turning off the kitchen light, he places his hand on the small of her back. “Lead the way, little Momma.”
SCROLL DOWN FOR MORE INFO AND LINK TO NEXT STORY!
In case I never get around to writing the baby shower the Downeys and Ruffalos had, this is Chris and Emery, getting ready for a date night. She had no idea he was taking her to a surprise party!
And in case you wondered, this was how Chris announced to the world they were pregnant:
Click here to read A Fine Gentleman, part two of Oscars 2019
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