Who: Nora and West
Where: West and Griff's place
When: Sunday afternoon, around 2 in the afternoon or so
What: eeeeee! lolz and water breaking. Fun all around.

Nora was not a very happy camper at that point in time. Not only was she overly pregnant and ready to have her daughter, but she was stuck. For the afternoon. With West Sumpter. Ugh. It wasn't as if she couldn't take care of herself, but with the due date so close the healers didn't want her by herself and Griff was taking care of things with the Catapults. She wasn't talking at all to him, instead spending her time reading through a new textbook she was thinking of using in her class at the kitchen table. She didn't really know where he was in the house, nor did she care. She was going to sit here until Griff got home and then demand that she get to go home--it was too weird being there, in their home and...she didn't like thinking about it.

Right, because West didn't think that this was awkward at -all-. He carded his hand through his hair and growled to himself, slamming his glass down on the counter with a slight frown. "Well fuck, then." He mumbled a repairing charm for the crack in the glass and then sighed.

Having her here was making him very antsy. He didn't want her to ... get baby juice or whatever all over the fucking floor because she was going to have the kid, and he sure as hell didn't want to go to the hospital with her and have to deal with her being even more emotional.

"Careful," she said, turning a page in her book after glancing up at him. The fact that he was going around smashing things and being--well, being male wasn't helping the situation any. "Don't want to have to take you to the healers for glass cuts. That'd be pretty daft of you...and what would the rags think?" She could just see the headlines, the two of them showing up at Mungo's together like that.

She felt her breath catch for a moment as her stomach tensed. It probably should have been something for her to worry over, but over the past month she'd been having Braxton Hicks contractions every other day so it didn't really phase her.

"They'd probably think that you threw the fucking glass at me and peg you as psycho." Which he wasn't exactly against everyone else thinking, but that was beside the point. He sighed and scrubbed his hand through his hair when she gasped, glancing over with an arched brow.

"What're you on about now?"

She smirked. If only she could get away with that...he deserved something getting chucked at him half the time anyways. Well, maybe not. But he was being a prat and it was driving her mad at the moment. Maybe she could floo over to Maddox's house, at least he'd be happy to see her.

"Nothing," she sighed, trying to get herself breathing properly again. There wasn't any use in getting him worried over nothing. Especially when he was so eager to get rid of her, and she wasn't about to waste away in St. Mungo's like poor Gleny. "Just...go back to your brooding or whatever it is you do."

"I don't brood, love. That'd be Griff's department -- and over you half of the time, no less." Which meant that he wasn't happy at all with the other man. He shook his head and sighed, glancing to her once more before he closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the fridge.

Only a few more hours until his other half was home and he could be rid of the woman. He just had to keep telling himself that.

She persed her lips as he spoke. It wasn't all her fault that Griff was worried about her. "Well, lucky for you he'll be done worrying about me soon enough." Then he'd only have to worry about their daughter. She still wasn't sure how that was going to work out, with her playing sitter and mummy.

Another wave of contractions hit her suddenly, causing her face to scrunch up in pain. Oh bloody hell, it hurt. She let out her breath slowly, as if doing so would make the pain go away. "What time does Griff finish today?" she asked softly.

Okay, she was still in pain -- he could see that much and it made his brows crease. If she up and died in the middle of the kitchen, Griff would probably have his head seven times over. He shifted until he could see her face clearly and leaned back against the counter.

"Six, but that's a couple of hours yet." He frowned. "Do you ... need something?"

She shook her head slowly, feeling her body slowly relaxing again. "No...I'll be fine," she murmured, rubbing her lower back a bit. Ohhh, she needed to use the loo. She pulled herself up slowly, looking feebly over at West. "I'm going to go to the loo," she told him, just in case he got like an anxious puppy (doubtful) and wanted to follow her. No, she'd rather him just sit there in the kitchen, not doing a bloody thing. She felt like she was waddling (and probably looked like it too) as she made her way through the living room, hand rubbing her belly slowly.

He'd seen her acting differently before, but he merely shrugged it off as 'weird hormonal pregnant lady stuff'. West glanced over to her with a blink. "Knock yourself out, love. Just don't pee on the floor."

"Ha ha," she replied over her shoulder, rolling her eyes. Just because she taught five year olds didn't make her one. Unfortunately, the combination of movement and contractions...oh bloody hell, her water just broke. It wasn't like....everywhere, but she could tell and, UGH! She stopped mid stride and let out a low sigh. "We need to get to Mungo's," she said, turning around to give him a pointed look. Good lord, this was embarrassing. Griff would probably worry and be comforting about this, West was just going to be a complete arse. She hadn't been paying close attention, but if her contractions were regular (and they felt pretty damn regular), she'd be getting another one soon.

West scowled slightly and pushed up to his feet once he heard her calling and - "Bloody hell, did you actually piss on the floor?" Once he realized that this was probably that 'water balloon' thing or whatever it was when people had kids... "Ah, fuck."

He did not want to be there when she was all screaming and in pain and punching shit because she was pregnant and it was Griffith's fault.

She sighed. "Yes, yes I did you fucking moron," she growled back sarcastically, now glaring at him. "Jesus Christ, West, are you really that daft? I can't believe that--" she stopped mid-sentence, another contraction hitting her. And it probably wasn't, but it felt much stronger than the previous ones. She grabbed blindly for the back of the couch, closing her eyes as she waited for her body to calm down long enough for her to dictate directions to him. They needed to send out owls...to Griff, her parents...Fiona. Nora wasn't going to be in the bloody delivery room by herself and a small part of her was terrified that her mum wouldn't want to be there.

Damnit, this meant that he was actually going to have to work things. He didn't trust her not to splinch herself in half and apparating when she was this far along probably wasn't good, but he also didn't trust her to be able to shout her destination clearly ... so that left only one option.

"You so owe me for this," he muttered as he stepped toward her and scooped her up (she still wasn't as heavy as Griff was even with all the baby weight) to carry her to the fireplace.

"Hold on, because if I drop your arse I'm going to get punched by Griff."

Thank god he wasn't a complete arse. She buried her head in his shoulder, trying not to yell out from the pain she was feeling. Her arm wrapped around his neck, though it felt extremely awkward for her to do so. She was going to owe him for this, though to be fair he was getting a step daughter...niece...whatever out of the deal. She wondered briefly to herself if he'd grabbed her hospital bag or not, but no matter. Griff could always bring it later on.

If she knew Griff, she'd know that the bag was at the fireplace next to the floo powder. He snorted and shouldered the bag awkwardly before he grabbed a fistful of the powder and tossed it into the flames, jumping in and announcing their location.