Husband!GermanyXPregnant!Reader Request ~Nesting~

GermanyXPregnant!Reader Request  ~Nesting~

The day that little blue line on that stick appeared, Ludwig and you changed.  That was almost six months ago.  Six months that you had told the blond that you were in fact carrying his child.  

Granted, he hadn’t taken it like you thought he would.  Why in the world you had assumed that rainbows, cotton candy, and unicorns would suddenly appear was still a mystery in your mind.  Maybe your hormones had already started to get the best of you then.  It had been the ‘oh, Mein Gott’ that caused you to stomp out, but thankful you hadn’t went on a nine month rampage.  

No, only a cleaning rampage.  One that paled in compassion to anything the German could have dreamed up about cleaning.  

Shutting the door to his car, he looked at the house that was lit like a damn Christmas tree in December.  Pulling back his coat sleeve, he looked at his watch.  It was late, much later then he thought that he would be home.  

That wouldn’t have been a problem, but he hadn’t called you.  That was the problem.  The blond German knew that there would be a world of hurt waiting for him on the other side of that door.  Gripping his briefcase tightly in his already clenched fist, he made his way to the door.  Tossing it open, he was ready for whatever situation he was about to face.  

To his surprise, you weren’t in the living room, even if the TV was on.  

“Out, damned spot!  Out!”  You yelled from the kitchen.  Whatever you had done, you were very adamant on removing it.  If you happened to be sleepwalking, cursing at your hands and Allistor was heaped, dead on the floor in the kitchen, than he would really start to worry.  But he couldn’t remember killing the bright redheaded Scotsman, so it must have been something else that plagued you.  

Ludwig pushed the partially closed kitchen door open, and a smile tugged at his pursed lips.  

There you stood, or more hunched over the counter from your large protruding belly being in the way.  Your (h/c) hair tied messy on the top of your head, baggy sweatpants and one of his old t-shirts, complete with a pink sponge in your hand.  You furiously scrubbed at the offending ‘spot’ on the dark oak countertop.  

“You will come out!”  You glared at the blemish that mocked you.  “Trust me; one of us isn’t coming out of this alive!”  You pointed the sponge at the counter, making your point even more clear.  “Now, where did I put the pressure washer?”  

Flinging the sponge back into the sink, you turned and tossed your hands on your hips.  You gasped once you saw the German leaning on the door frame, holding back the laughter that wanted to spill forth.  

He thought that he was crazy about cleaning!  

“What are you doing, (f/n)?”  Ludwig asked, pulling on the knot of his tie, losing it from the constriction from around his neck.  

“I was waiting for the baby’s clothes to finish washing.  I thought I might tackle the kitchen…again.”  You said, pushing past him.  “I just gotta find that damn pressure washer.  Didn’t you have it last week?  Yeah, you just did the siding!  Then it’s in the garage, right?”  

“Hold it!”  Ludwig tugged at your hand, pulling you back.  “You can’t bring that into the house.”  

“But…” you rested your hand on the ‘basketball’ beneath your shirt.  Giving the best ‘puppy-dog’ eyes you could, you hoped to win him over.  

Didn't seem like it was going to work this time.

“What do you mean you’re washing the baby’s cloths?  Didn’t you just do that…a week ago?”  He tried to rack his brain on why you would be doing laundry again, but it had to be a good reason, right?  

Rolling your (e/c) eyes, you gave an unholy growl.  “They might have got dust on them.”  You pulled your hand away, waving them franticly in the air.  “This place is a mess and it needs to be cleaned before the baby gets here, Ludwig.”

“How dusty can they get in a drawer?”  he asked, unbuttoning his shirt.  “A mess?  This place is the cleanest I’ve ever seen it, if that’s possible.”  

“Is it?!  Do you know I found dust behind the bookshelf in your study?”  You asked, storming up the stairs.  “I’ll just clean something else then, since you won’t let me get the power washer.”  

“I’m so mean to you.”  Ludwig muttered and sighed, dropping down on the couch.  “Don’t you dare use my toothbrush again!”  He had caught you cleaning the bathroom using his toothbrush; he knew then that the nesting bug had found you.

“Damn, but it works so well in all the little nooks and crannies…”

~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Looking down at the 409 in your hand, you took aim at the toilet again.  Pulling the trigger, you saturated the porcelain throne in a foamy, white slop.  If it had been a .44 Magnum in your hot little hands, the damn thing would have been blown to smithereens.  

“You’ve gotta ask yourself a question: “Do you feel lucky?”  We’ll do ya, punk?”  You raised an eyebrow, ripping a wad of paper towels from the roll.  Lowering yourself to your knees, you awkwardly leaned down scrubbing at the already sparkling white toilet with your belly in the way.  

Ludwig heard you recap a line from ‘Dirty Harry’ and knew that he needed to get off the couch before you hurt yourself or scrubbed the pattern off the bathroom floor.  

“It’s almost midnight; don’t you think you’ve cleaned enough for one day?”  He asked, his senses assaulted by the lemony freshness of the bathroom.

You didn’t turn from your venture.  But you couldn’t believe what you were hearing!  

“How could you want to bring your child into this world without a clean toilet, Ludwig?   Have you lost your mind?”

Really?  You were the one going ‘bad cop’ on the damn toilet!  

“What if you have to use it?  You do pee like six times a night.”  Holding out his hand, he helped you to your feet.  

“I’m sorry that your kid wants to use my bladder as a punching bag, when he’s not practicing his Starlight Kicks on my stomach.”  

“Sorry,” he said, again.  He remembered making a remark how it couldn’t get much worse then you sorting M&M’s by colour, but he was wrong.  To think that pregnancy would cause him this much of a headache!

~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~~*~*~*~

His blue eyes flashed open, as he rolled over, blinking a few times at the clock on the nightstand.  It was almost two in the morning.  Reaching his hand over to your side of the bed, the sheets were still smooth and untouched.  You still hadn’t come to bed?  

VROOM! VROOM!

“Is she really…” he groaned and pulled himself from the warm bed.  Guiding himself along the wall, he looked down the stairs. “…vacuuming?”