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Anya could no longer eat peanuts and it was all Damian’s fault.
The first time she realized, she had been having a massive headache and nausea for days. Usually, there was nothing more soothing to make a cold go away than sitting on the couch, watching Spy Wars and eating handful after handful of her favorite salted, roasted peanuts. So when she hunkered down on the massive couch in her living room, remote in hand, she was prepared for the ultimate comfort session. The familiar introduction song to her favorite (childhood) show came on and she let out a sigh of relief. Anya leaned back sideways against the throw pillows and tucked her legs underneath her. Lazily, her right hand stretched towards her lap where a good-sized bowl was tucked, threatening to spill as her weight shifted. Her fingers came around the small oily bits and she brought her fist to her mouth, lips parted wide, ready to crunch down on the delicacies.
Except. Her stomach gave an extra painful lurch and she scattered the peanuts all over the floor. Her eyes closed as she pictured Bond having a field day over the rug. The smell of the snack was still lingering in her nose and it became more prominent when she jerked her legs and knocked over the rest of the bowl. The headache from earlier was becoming more pronounced and she heard someone come in. ‘Oh dear, the Missus has had a spill.’ Anya waved her hand weakly. “I’ll pick them up.” But even as she dropped onto the floor, she knew that the smell was just going to make her feel worse and any cleaning she attempted to do might lead to an even nastier mess.
‘In a few days, when this flu is over, I’m going to eat a whole truckful,’ Anya thought with grim satisfaction, ignoring the little jump in her stomach at the idea.
But a few weeks passed, and she was still feeling unwell. It wasn’t just peanuts. It was practically every food except for soup. Suddenly, Anya wanted nothing more than broth and maybe some noodles with it if she could.
“We’re going to go to the doctor’s right after breakfast,” Damian announced. He placed his coffee cup down on the coaster and rubbed her head in concern.
“I really don’t want to.”
Anya was pouting and Damian’s heart melted. But his concern was not surpassed by his sympathy for her dislike of doctors. “Go get ready. You’ve been feeling off for nearly a month. If you don’t go, I’ll bring one over.”
She blew her pink hair out of her face. “You know, one would think that Sy-on Boy would have learned years ago to stop using his wealth and status to make people do things they don’t want to.”
His mouth quirked at the use of the old nickname but he stood firm. “Anya, I swear, if you don’t cooperate, I’ll -”
“What? Throw me over your shoulder and carry me to the car? I won’t go quietly,” she threatened, taking his previous threat straight from his mind.
“Oh, now you’re resorting to reading my mind, aren’t you?” Damian stood up and picked her up, exactly as his thoughts had so perfectly depicted. “Let’s go Mrs. Desmond.” Despite her previous protests, Anya felt too tired to fight back. She just pulled gently on his dark curls and laid limp in his arms, praying silently her dead weight would make him struggle even just for a bit.
********************
“How long have you been feeling sick, Mrs. Desmond?” The doctor was taking very diligent notes on her pad.
“About three weeks or so. At first I thought it was just a cold, and then I thought it was a stomach bug. But I still can’t eat anything except soup and I really, really miss peanuts.”
The doctor paused and examined the notes she had written. Anya resisted the urge to read her mind. If there was something life threatening, she would rather hear it verbally first. “Well, Mrs. Desmond, Mr. Desmond, it really seems to be just one conclusion.” Anya held her breath as Damian tensed next to her. “Congratulations! You’re going to have a baby!”
For a few seconds, it was just the doctor smiling at them and the young couple barely breathing. Then Damian was laughing and try as she might to tune them out, his thoughts came through loud and clear. ‘WE ARE GOING TO BE PARENTS??? OH GOD, I’M GOING TO BE A DAD! WE’RE GOING TO HAVE A MINI ANYA!’
Before Anya even knew what she was saying, she murmured, “Or a mini Damian.” And even though she was still trying to process the fact that there was now a baby growing inside her, she couldn’t help but picture a baby with dark hair and golden eyes, beaming up at her with round cheeks.
They barely made it out of the examination room when Anya turned sharply back to run into the office again. “Doctor, when can I eat peanuts again?”
“Well, food aversion usually goes away in the beginning of the second trimester, so in about three more weeks.”
Anya swallowed hard and allowed her hand to be taken by Damian who had chased after in alarm earlier. Three more weeks without her beloved peanuts. She could survive, barely, but she could.
********************
Never had Anya counted down the weeks as diligently as she did after the doctor’s visit. While Damian insisted she rested and Anya did not resist, tired as she was, her mouth still craved the crunch of the peanuts and the delicious dots of salt. As the days went by, her stomach slowly started to feel better and she ventured into eating more solid foods. One night, after a successful dinner with Damian and his boring cabinet members, Anya sat once more on the couch and pointed at the snack cabinet. “Sy-on Boy, can you get me some peanuts?” Her toes pointed up and down in a vague direction as she emphasized her words.
Her husband gave an amused chuckle and dropped a kiss on her forehead before going to open a packet. “Don’t even bother with the bowl,” Anya called out. “I’ll eat them straight from the bag.”
“You’re the wife of the Prime Minister. Can’t you have some dining etiquette please?” But his soft smile belied his scolding words.
“Yeah, well, this wife of the Prime Minister is currently carrying the future Desmond heir and really should be allowed to do whatever the heck she likes.” Anya shot back. Her comeback, however, had little bite as she followed his return to her side with wide, eager eyes.
Damian took a handful of the nuts and brought them to her. “Here you go, my lady.”
Anya inhaled deeply and opened her mouth; saliva was rapidly gathering in the crevices of her gums, when again, she felt the familiar wave of nausea rise up in her. Damian immediately noticed her undisguised look of disgust and brought the snack away. “What’s wrong?”
By now, the sheer frustration of not being able to enjoy her favorite food was getting to Anya and her emerald eyes filled with tears. “This is all your fault, Sy-on Boy! I hate you!” And she proceeded to sob her heart out. When the maids gathered in the living room, Damian quietly indicated for them to be left alone.
“Perhaps, we can try peanut flavored things?”
Her cries subsided a little and Anya sniffled. “Then I want peanut ice cream.”
*******************
Damian knew he messed up the moment the word came out of his mouth. He had just come home from a long day at the office and found his beloved wife sitting on the bed, a Spy Wars novel resting on her swollen belly. “How is our little peanut doing?”
Immediately, Anya’s head whipped up and her lips furled into a snarl. Damian could have sworn he heard a low feral growl. “Don’t even go there.”
The man sighed. Even though it was already Anya’s third semester, for some reason, the aversion to peanuts had not gone away. He held up his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry, my sweet. I brought you some ice cream.”
At those words, Anya’s face brightened and she dropped the book, and swung her legs over the bed. She eagerly toddled over to him, ready to be affectionate again. “Thank you, Sy-on Boy!”
He watched her devour the treat with adoration in his every feature. “So isn’t it time we thought of an actual name for the baby?”
Anya did not look up from the wooden stick which she was now sucking clean. “Peanut isn’t a bad name. Peanut Desmond.”
“You absolutely cannot name our first child that.”
“So you’re saying we can name our second child ‘Peanut?’”
“Oh, so you’re already thinking of having a second child with me?” Damian watched with immense satisfaction as a blush painted Anya’s cheeks and she threw a pillow at his head.
“S-shut it!”
*******************
“I love you so much, Anya.” Damian murmured. He was holding her delicately, careful to avoid all the drips and machines she was still currently attached to. Anya’s pink hair was matted to her forehead and her eyes barely open as Damian planted little kisses over her cheek.
“When can we see him?” she asked. Her throat felt parched but after the long nearly eighteen hours of labor, she felt utterly satisfied. Mission completed.
“Soon, the nurses are cleaning him up. He’s absolutely perfect, our Peanut. And he has your eyes.”
“You’re so dumb,” Anya giggled. “Babies don’t really develop their eye color until a bit later.”
“Still,” Damian insisted. “You’ll see.”
A few seconds later, the nurse came in with a dark gray bundle. She placed the baby carefully in Anya’s arms and Anya let out a breath. The baby was quiet, his eyes shut, but there was already a tuft of black curls on his head.
“Welcome to the world, Devon ‘Peanut’ Desmond.”