WHO: Archie + Isobel + Baby bump MacMillan
WHAT: Nope, doing this once already does not a pro make.
WHERE: Scotland manor!
WHEN: NOW!

She had decided that the last few months of her pregnancy were going to be done barefoot. Izzie was having the remarkably uncomfortable issue of swollen ankles this time around, something she hadn’t had to deal with Ernie, and was banning shoes and the like from her home. It wasn’t something the two men in her life seemed to appreciate, but they couldn’t do much about it now because her ‘nesting’ stage had caused her to put all of the shoes in the house into some neat little nook of a closet she’d found and could not possibly find again.

Oh, well. She supposed that Archie could just buy new pairs of shoes if he just had to wear them to work. Izzie held one pair of shoes that had not succumbed to the others fate, hoping that they would be suitable for her husband to wear to work until she found the rest or he purchased some more. She shut her eyes as she opened the door to her husband’s office, trying to get herself ready to star the waterworks if he was less than amused about the shoe predicament.

“You’re going to be quite put off...with...me.” Izzie blinked, taking in the mountains of boxes that covered every inch of her husband’s offices. Very familiar boxes that had her handwriting all over the sides, very familiar boxes that she was quite sure held the paperwork and whatever else she’d collected over the years from her yoga studio. “Archie?”

Archie had been scribbling busily away with his fine ostrich-plumed quill, deadly intent on making his way through the mound of casework that was crowding his desk at work. So caught up in his closing comments on the pantless Derbyshire magician was he that he entirely missed Isobel's entrance into his study, except for the moderately soul-crushing sound of the door flattening a box crammed between a table and the door stoppper. He flinched and fought a spine-tingling chill akin to one might experience when hearing nails on a chalkboard or a banshee scream, looking up in surprise to see her standing there, mouth open.

"Isobel," he said, having paused in his flourishing signature so the quill still tickled his cheek. He cocked his head to the side with a frown as he saw the dilapidated pair of footwear clutched in his bewildered-looking wife's hand. "Why are you holding my shoes?"

Izzie dropped the shoes, jumping a bit in surprise as they didn’t make a thunk on the floor, but landed in a poof of parchment because of the open box they landed in. She felt like her eyelids had been charmed to stick to her eyebrows as she took in the rather organized chaos that was taking over Archie’s office. Had she really avoided this room enough (the chairs were just too hard to get up from!) to not notice him collect and collect box upon box?

“Archie,” she said again, seemingly only able to say her husband’s name. Isobel’s mouth moved like a fish’s, unsure if she was actually seeing what she was seeing. She knew she had a mess in her studio, but it was spread out throughout various desks and closets and...piles. It seemed like so much more when they were piled like her husband had managed it, “Archie...what are you doing with...”

She turned a bit too suddenly and her belly bopped one of the boxes, making one of the towers teeter. “What’s all this doing here?!”

It took him a moment to realise what she was talking about, so he blinked owlishly until the realisation occurred. "Oh!" he cried, suddenly looking at his office as though for the first time. Comprehension then truly dawned. "Oh." Archie steepled his fingers and took in the controlled chaos with new eyes, picturing what his wife must be seeing. "Yes. About this, I—"

From what he could recall, it started innocently enough. After being eaten alive by her paperwork (and rightfully so, for it was in a dreadful state), Isobel had beseeched Archie to help devise a system that would keep them organized. He agreed, but only if she promised and swore, etc. that she would work on it with him, and actually pay attention!, so that she'd remember to employ it in future.

Well, one thing or the other kept happening, and somehow they never found the time to get to it, and Archie confiscated the mess so Isobel couldn't worsen it, and it was just... there, in all it's boxed splendour.

"Remember how I said we should both sit down and come up with a system together, my sweet...!" He smiled uncertainly, feeling inexplicably nervous all of a sudden. "You know, for when you should be resting. More," because he was quite certain she hadn't been doing the proper amount as it was.

Archie cleared his throat for a moment and looked back at the box his shoes had disappeared into, trying not to think about the smudges it was going to leave behind on the scrolls. "Erm, Isobel, why — the shoes?"

“Because I hate shoes!” Isobel squeaked, running her hands through her hair in nervousness. Look at all this mess, just look at it! How could Archie even breathe in here, let alone seem so calm and collected?! How could all of The Lotus Flower’s paperwork be here when it had managed to take up so much space at the studio? How had Archie gotten all of this in here without her noticing?!

Isobel suddenly felt quite dizzy. It was probably a good thing that Archie was undertaking such a task, and Merlin knew that her studio needed to be organized, but to actually see what a mess all of her paperwork actually was in was intimidating. Her mess had been....hers, organized chaos, but now it seemed like she did not have any sort of control over it and that---this----was----her thing. The Lotus Flower was hers! And--yes, she had asked for his help but this was...not...whatshehadinmind!

“I need to sit down,” Izzie said, looking around for one of Archie’s armchairs, and when she realized that he’d either banished them to make room for his new collection of work, she dropped down onto the nearest and shortest tower of boxes, not even cringing at the sound of the crinkled parchment beneath her weight.

"Are you all right?" Archie asked in alarm, trying not to visibly show any of the wince he felt upon the sound, or the thought that all those scrolls would be squashed from the weight of her — no, it was all right, she was his Isobel, and she looked rather queasy and in need of him at the moment.

Swinging his legs up over the desk, he carefully avoided his preciously organized stack of paperwork and one box that had somehow taken up residence on its surface, which he'd never found a better place for. Skipping over boxes that littered the path from him to her like an obstacle course, he crouched in front of her and took hold of her hands tightly in his. "Isobel!" He ducked his head to better look her in the eye, taking into account her bare feet in spite of the relatively chilled floor of the manor. "Why do you hate shoes, dearest?"

Izzie frowned deeply, trying to control her tears but it simply wasn’t possible. This pregnancy had been...a lot rougher than her time with Ernie, which was not something she had been expecting. She’d had to go to court and deal with a destroyed mansion, her husband was nearly killed in a freak earthquake, and there were so many other out-of-her-control things that had transpired that she hadn’t even noticed the swelling of her feet or the constant cravings or all the other aches that came along with being pregnant. Now that the world was at peace, it felt like this new baby was making up for all the physically pain-free from before.

“You took all my stuff,” she let out, eyes widening, “This is---all my---without---they make my feet hurt!” Izzie knew she was babbling but she could not even think about forming actual sentences because this was big and overwhelming but not really, but her mind wouldn’t let her relax about it and she gripped Archie’s hands, “You’ve got to---take them off and put...put all this back!”

Mad, she was absolutely mad.

Archie felt his heart clutch in panic, not because his wife too was panicking (as the first year of their relationship seemed essentially like one long panic-attack for Isobel), but because for the first time in their joint history, they were not unwed and pregnant, homeless while waiting for their desecrated ancestral home to be remodeled, harangued by parents and siblings, turned into giant reptilian creatures, drowning in an indoor flood, or lying in a magical coma while one partner went into labour with their first child. No one had even been kidnapped! So if his wife was having some kind of nervous breakdown when none of this was happening, what did that MEAN? Surely it couldn't have been worse than all that!

"Please breathe!" he begged as he clutched her hands tighter in his, because he certainly wasn't remembering to do that. "I'll do whatever you want me to, please just breathe!"

Her comment about feet and the inexplicable hate she seemed to have developed for footwear caught his attention, and Archie glanced down at the pink heels exposed by the hem of her robe. Dainty and streamlined as his Isobel was, her feet were no exception. But he could see the normally delicate protrusion of bone at the ankle almost indistinguishable from the skin around it, and wondered just how uncomfortable restricting the skin in such an area would be. Then he felt embarrassed, and a little ashamed, because he could hole himself up in his study and spend late nights at the office under the pretext of providing for his family, but what good was he at all if he couldn't show that he cared, or notice when he might be needed?

Cupping a hand gingerly around her foot, he ran his thumb over the ankle and looked up with a crease in his brow. "Is it — Are you all right?"

“I---” Izzie caught her breath, seeing her husband’s worry and concern and suddenly felt very guilty for her slight (more than slight) reaction (overreaction). She did mentally note that Archie had barely said a word about all the paperwork that was currently creating a claustrophobic-like feeling throughout the room, but maybe that should be discussed away from the mountains of work that they needed to get through. Izzie sniffled and wiped at her face, feeling some relief as Archie rubbed her foot.

She really needed to calm down. All she was doing was getting him worked up, and when Archie was worked up, she got worked up and Izzie didn’t think she was ready for this baby to come out just yet because of a panic attack. Her eyes took in the paperwork and boxes and let out a breath. She hadn’t been stressed out about all this mess before, what was getting her crazy now? It took a lot of Izzie to admit that she needed help, and Archie was always there to help her. He was always there to help her even when she didn’t ask. If she couldn’t think of a logical reason to be fretting about all the paperwork, then she couldn’t exactly argue with her husband about it, could she?

Izzie sighed, looking down at Archie with a pout. His mind seemed focused on her swollen ankles, and she wiggled her toes slowly. She’d make that her issue right now.

“This baby is really wearing me down,” she admitted, knowing for a fact that she would be stopping her yoga practices much earlier than she had during her first pregnancy.

This baby had been more of a shock to him than even Ernest, but Archie couldn't deny it made him just as happy. But he hated that Izzie felt any discomfort at all because of it, particularly because there was nothing he could do, and Archie despised being helpless.

He couldn't help but feel that Isobel simply taxed herself too much, be it because of her work, or keeping house. Even if she were to be put on bedrest, which Archie had a sneaking suspicion might be happening earlier this time as well, he knew it was no guarantee that his extremely active wife would pay heed to it. Particularly if she was still in the house. That was when an idea suddenly struck him, directing his gaze to Isobel from the corner of his eye.

"What if we—went somewhere?" he said slowly, stilling in the midst of pressing her foot. "Like a…holiday."

“Oooh.”

Izzie’s eyebrows went high, her surprise at the comment more than evident. A holiday! They hadn’t been anywhere since their honeymoon, and the euphoria that most couples had after returning home had been short lived. Very short lived. They had not even managed to get through the door of their new home because there was no door to their new home. Oh, a holiday would be splendid, and Archie was always commenting on how it was never too young to start culturing Ernie. Would Archie be able to take the time off from work? She knew how he hated to miss a day, but he would not have suggested it if he didn’t think it was possible and...

“That would be lovely,” Isobel agreed, leaning forward to put her hands on Archie’s shoulder and kiss his forehead. A holiday to get away from all the stress, even though she’d still literally be carrying around what was giving her the most stress...the idea that all she had to worry about was having a pleasant, happy time with her two favorite people in the world was more than enough medicine.

Izzie couldn’t help the smile of pride and excitement as she stared adoringly down at her husband, “You’re a darling, did you know?”

Archie felt that tell-tale flush spreading up to his ears that three years and innumerable hardships had not, could never, dull and lowered his eyes. "I'm actually more of a toad," he said confessed. "But you make me want to be a prince."

But an ear-to-ear grin soon found its way onto his face, and the tingles of excitement this idea had given him were quickly igniting now that Isobel seemed to approve it. Not that it would have mattered otherwise; the only thing he ever really wanted to do was make her happy. Passing his thumb over her ankle bone, he looked back up at her through a haze of adoration and planning. "I was thinking perhaps Italy? I have a cousin that keeps a villa there—it truly is so lovely, though I've only seen the pictures…"