He Owes Me: 2P Germany and Pregnant Reader:
The alarm clock buzzed throughout the tiny apartment. You groaned and your husband snuggled closer. "You shouldn't be going to work," he grumbled.
You sighed and smacked the alarm clock. "I know," you said, reluctantly pulling away from his cuddles, though his arm snaked back around you and pulled you closer. "Ludvig," you said sternly with a hint of sleepiness. You turned to face him. "I have to go to work."
He ran a hand over your swollen belly. He smirked, "It's not good for the baby."
"I know," you sighed tempted to pull the covers over your head and sleep till noon.
"And maybe I don't want you to leave," he said, pulling you closer; his violet eyes shining with mischief.
You smiled and groaned running one hand over a facial scar that cut straight across his nose and cheek and twirling a lock of wavy platinum blonde hair. You leaned in for a kiss. "Nope," you said, pushing away and throwing the covers off.
"Fine," he grumbled cocooning himself in the rest of the covers.
After you were dressed in your most comfortable top and nurse uniform pants, you put your hair back, made a piece of toast, and ran in to say goodbye to Ludvig. He had already gone back to sleep but when you kissed his strong jaw his eyes slit open and before you knew it he was tickling you.
"Ludvig!" you gasped through giggles.
He smirked and kissed you before letting go. You looked over at him slyly. "You know you should be getting to work too."
He groaned and flopped down on the mattress. "They won't care if I'm late," and closed his eyes.
You went off to work, strolling through the parking garage as you sipped tea. Working at the hospital could be an exciting and happy job, but it could also be somber and stressful. But, if you hadn't decided to become a nurse you wouldn't have met Ludvig who had been carted off to the hospital after a motorcycle accident.
In fact you still remember his first words to you. "My brother owes me ten dollars; says there are no such things as hot nurses." That still made you smile and blush.
Luckily that day, you were assigned paperwork…a lot of paperwork and receptionist duties. Around mid- afternoon the phone rang and you saw it was the ambulance phone. "Yes, St. James Hospital."
"We have motorcycle accident; it looks like a few minor scrapes and a broken arm." You quickly jotted it down and hung up. You tugged at the sleeve of a passing doctor and handed him the note. He nodded and rushed off, calling out to other doctors and nurses.
You couldn't concentrate on your paperwork. An icy pick feeling pounded at your heart. That always happened when you heard about motorcycle accidents. Yes Ludvig was fine, but he was lucky. Most motorcycle accidents didn't end well.
Minutes later a stretcher was carted through the hospital and a strong well-muscled man lay on it, groaning and looking around, like he was searching for someone. He was searching for you. It was Ludvig with a bloody twisted arm and a long scrape down his other arm.
"Ludvig!" you cried scrambling out from behind your station. You caught his eye and he smirked and winked, before they carted him off into the emergency room.
You stood pacing outside the room, muttering to yourself as you subconsciously rubbed your swollen belly. Tears threatened to spill several times so you scurried off to the bathroom to dry your eyes and splash your face, giving yourself a pep talk as you looked in the mirror.
After a couple of hours a Doctor came out and said you could visit him. You nearly started to cry again and almost hugged the doctor; instead anger started to boil and you pushed past him and into the room.
"What were you thinking?" you cried, tears now spilling.
Ludvig looked stern and sipped water from a Styrofoam cup. "My brother still owes me ten dollars," he muttered.
"What does that have to do with any-……oh," you said, turning bright red and burying your wet face in your hand. "W-What….what were you thinking?" you asked softly.
Ludvig beckoned you over and you pulled a chair over to the side of the bed. His face was stern but his eyes were filled with concern, "I wanted to come by and apply for maternity leave for you before heading off to work."
You felt guilty which you didn't like. You decided to lighten the mood. "I don't think they'll let you do that."
Ludvig smirked and raised a brow in question, "Are you sure?" he asked, lifting up his un-broken arm and flexing a bandaged muscle.
You giggled and sat up, carefully leaning over to touch his flexing muscle. "Oh yeah, that will convince them." You turned back to Ludvig. "I'll go apply now," you said and kissed his forehead.
As you left his bedside you felt him grab your arm and tug you back. "You missed," he growled, pulling you into a passionate kiss that was sadly interrupted by a flustered nurse.