Harper
In fact, Harper is sure they'd only ever messed up once, and just as his ears are beginning to heat as the memory comes back in technicolor recollection, Phoebe spares him the embarrassment of getting aroused in a public bar by distracting him with worrying. It's highly effective when Harper is a worrier at heart of course, and though her general demeanor is far too excited to mean anything horrible, it doesn't stop a variety of outlandish scenarios from beginning to take root.
Just as his lips are parting to urge her onward, hating to sit still even without something like this on the table, Phoebe puts him out of his misery as if aware his childlike levels of patience are running out.
And speaking of childlike...
The words don't compute for a moment, dark brows still knitted in concern. He blinks. Blinks again.
Blue eyes slowly begin to widen, until they're at risk of falling right out of his skull.
Mouth opens soundlessly.
Hands go limp around Phoebe's.
There is a prolonged stillness where Harper is certain he is turning to stone, that he will soon become a new art fixture in the Hanged Man. And then like someone put time on fast forward, every reaction from there is like a car crash on amphetamines.
"You're...pregnant. You're pregnant? You're pregnant!" And then he's launching out of his seat and grabbing Phoebe (carefully, so so carefully!) around the waist to spin her around, cheering to the rafters and drowning out any other pitiful noises the busy bar could hope to try and compete with. "You're pregnant! You're pregnant!" It's a crowing chant as he bounces them around, refusing to let Phoebe's feet touch the floor as he draws every eye and ear in the entire establishment, forcing every unfortunate bar-goer to bear witness to his euphoria. Setting Phoebe down he turns to the bar at large, eyes brimming with tears and cheeks pink with exertion and the massive smile on his face. "I'm going to be a dad!" A few patrons cheer, while others grumble and go back to their drinks. Harper doesn't care at all, turning to cup Phoebe's face in his hands and press kisses all over her skin. "I'm going to be a dad," he whispers just for her, and happy tears drip onto her cheeks from his own.
Just as his lips are parting to urge her onward, hating to sit still even without something like this on the table, Phoebe puts him out of his misery as if aware his childlike levels of patience are running out.
And speaking of childlike...
The words don't compute for a moment, dark brows still knitted in concern. He blinks. Blinks again.
Blue eyes slowly begin to widen, until they're at risk of falling right out of his skull.
Mouth opens soundlessly.
Hands go limp around Phoebe's.
There is a prolonged stillness where Harper is certain he is turning to stone, that he will soon become a new art fixture in the Hanged Man. And then like someone put time on fast forward, every reaction from there is like a car crash on amphetamines.
"You're...pregnant. You're pregnant? You're pregnant!" And then he's launching out of his seat and grabbing Phoebe (carefully, so so carefully!) around the waist to spin her around, cheering to the rafters and drowning out any other pitiful noises the busy bar could hope to try and compete with. "You're pregnant! You're pregnant!" It's a crowing chant as he bounces them around, refusing to let Phoebe's feet touch the floor as he draws every eye and ear in the entire establishment, forcing every unfortunate bar-goer to bear witness to his euphoria. Setting Phoebe down he turns to the bar at large, eyes brimming with tears and cheeks pink with exertion and the massive smile on his face. "I'm going to be a dad!" A few patrons cheer, while others grumble and go back to their drinks. Harper doesn't care at all, turning to cup Phoebe's face in his hands and press kisses all over her skin. "I'm going to be a dad," he whispers just for her, and happy tears drip onto her cheeks from his own.
can we go back to the world we had?
with a love so sweet it makes me sad
with a love so sweet it makes me sad
