Moira and Harraël were on their way to meet up with his friends and have lunch. Today was also the day Moira had her fourth ultrasound, and Harraël was tagging along for the first time.

At Harraël's insistence, he was the one driving her car. Claiming that it was safer for her to sit next to the wheel instead of behind it, but she rolled her eyes at that. She knew she wouldn't endanger herself or the baby while driving as long as she buckled up correctly, moved away from the steering wheel and avoided leaning forward or driving long distances. She knew very well why he insisted on driving her car. It was a 1963 Volvo Amazon. And boys will be boys.

She'd always been a lover of old timers, so naturally, when she saw her dream car for sale for only $4000,-, she took her chance and bought it. It was a little battered, nothing some reparations and a new coating couldn't fix though. As a result, it looked as good as new.

Harraël leant forward and turned on the radio, keeping his eyes on the road while flicking between about a dozen stations.

"Just choose one, would you," Moira snapped, getting impatient at his indecisive little act.

"Someone's grumpy." He smirked, annoyingly.

She pinched the bridge of her nose, "I'd keep my mouth shut if I were you."

"Yes, sir."

Guilt and shame washed through her, mixing with another foreign feeling. She sighed.
"Look, I'm sorry for being so cranky lately. It's just the hormones messing with me."

He shot her a look sideways, and briefly patted her knee. "It's alright, babe."

Recently they'd been spending more and more time together, as friends. They usually ate dinner at Moira's place. Since Harraël didn't even bother to go grocery shopping, but they mainly did it so that they could alternate between who would put dinner on the table. Just last week, they'd gone shopping for unisex baby clothes. Harraël hadn't been much help, constantly questioning if she was sure she was getting the right sizes, colors, etcetera. He had also turned to calling her 'babe' or 'sweetheart' which annoyed her at times, but he meant well so she let it slide.

You'd often find them cuddling on the couch as well, watching movies, talking or napping. It never went further than that, Moira made sure that nothing more than that ever happened.

And now, she was going to be meeting 'the boys'. Though Harraël had assured her that they were in fact, men.

"Whoa," Moira was ripped from her thoughts, her features lighting up as her fingers lightly, gingerly touched her protruding stomach. Her eyes connected with Harraël's, an excited smile upon her face. "It's Ollie again."

He admired her strength. Unlike his sister -who would be moaning about nothing at all 24/7-, Moira had never as much as complained about her pregnancy, even though at times he knew she was in pain. For example when they had to sit down for a bit because her feet were sore or when her back ached, but not once did she complain.

She hadn't even properly met her baby yet and was already a proud mother, like she was supposed to be. He couldn't help but feel proud of her in return, for handling all this the way she did. An independent woman, is what she was. And he really did admire her.

They arrived at the café, parked the car and walked inside. And to Moira's dread, Harraël's friends were already seated. Or at least she figured they were his friends since they were currently 'bro-hugging' one another. She'd been hoping they would be there first, to avoid awkward introductions. But as always, things didn't go as planned.

The first to stand up and introduce himself was a black-haired guy with piercing blue eyes and a tall build. "Isaac O'Hara." He said, squeezing her hand softly.

Next was, "Heath Noel." Who was a scary resemblance of the sun from The Teletubbies, just a little older.

Then, "Cade Davis." Who's eyes seemed glued to her bump. She shrugged it off, used to the stares by now.

Aware she wouldn't be able to remembering all of their names, she just focused on their first names for now. Trying not to call Isaac, Heath or Cade, Isaac.
Luckily, the last person to introduce himself was rather familiar.

"Finn Fitzgerald." He said with a stoic face, though every idiot could see an obvious grin was trying to make its way through.

To everyone's surprise -including Moira's-, she gave him a quick hug and a "It's nice to see you again, Finn."

They ordered their drinks and meal, making some small talk. It didn't escape her how the café was deserted except for her, the boys, their waitress and the cook, undoubtedly. She found it odd, since it was located in the middle of the city and it was lunch time.

"Hey guys, you aren't going to murder me are you?" She voiced her thoughts.

Harraël stared deeply into her uncertain eyes, his eyebrows furrowed, and he spoke slowly, as if trying to understand where she was going with this. "What do you mean?"

"There's barely anybody here, less witnesses and all."

Heath was the first to laugh, "Ooh! Those are just safety measures."

Confused, Moira asked, "What do you mean."

Harraël shot his friends a look before turning to her, "I'll tell you later, not while we're with these loons."

She nodded, though a little suspicious of the circumstances. He was glad she didn't push the case. She trusted him.

Their food arrived, all five of them having ordered the same thing: a club sandwich, since it was the café's speciality. While Moira had ordered a salad. The boys ate like they'd never been fed before as she picked up her fork and picked up a few pieces of lettuce, leading it to her mouth. The salad had very light dressing, which she liked, and the lettuce was well-prepared. She ate nearly all the salad, noticing that the boys had already finished their sandwiches. She continued eating until she was finished it, and then she washed it down with some water.

"I have to use the restroom, guys, I'll be right back." Harraël announced, shooting her a look that said 'are you going to be alright with these nosy buggers?'. She nodded, shooing him away to go do his business.

When he came back to the table five minutes later, all four of his friends were laughing while Moira sat in the middle of the laughter-pit with a head as red as a tomato.

"What are you guys laughing about?" He questioned, suspiciously.

"Nothing!" Moira said quickly, not making eye contact.

Someone's phone vibrated. Everyone checked their pockets to see if it was theirs. Yet, it turned out to be Harraël's. He fished the phone from his jeans and looked at the caller ID before answering the call, "Hello?"

The four men beside Moira all gazed at him in anticipation, as if they were expecting someone or knew the person on the other side of the line. A few yes' and no's were thrown into the conversation, his eyes glinting in anger at what the other person had to say. He hung up, slamming down the device aggressively and making Moira freeze. He shot his friends a look, which they caught on instantly and checked their emails.

"God damn it!" He yelled, his hands tightening into fists and his form looking stiff as a statue.

Her breath hitched in her throat, this side of him she'd never seen before. Within seconds, he'd transformed into a entirely other Harraël. And it completely terrified her. He took in her shaken form and tried to take her hand in his, a friendly gesture they'd also picked up. But she flinched back before he could even touch her.

"Moira, I-" He looked pained. "I can't come to the ultrasound this afternoon.

She felt numb with hurt and... betrayal. She stared at him with unblinking eyes. "Why?"

"Something came up," he nervously fiddled with his napkin. "work-related."

"I understand," she whispered, knowing this was the reason he'd been so angry. Though inside, she couldn't help but feel like he had betrayed her trust. She invited him to come to her ultrasound. She hadn't even asked her own mother to tag along, for Christ's sake. He must have known how much it meant to her. Did he know? And what was the thing about safety measures?

The doubts in her mind, and different thoughts made her feel sick. Reminding herself that stress wasn't healthy for the baby, and trying to relax using breathe techniques.

After another hour of awkward talk, they finally left. Since the phone call, Moira had begun closing herself off. The familiar feeling of everlasting discomfort quickly returning, she no longer felt at ease. Or even comfortable enough to speak. And thus, the car ride home was spent in silence.

No words were spoken, not even when they parked the car in their building's garage or when he escorted her to her door. At the last moment, just before she closed her door, she waved awkwardly and mumbled a soft, "Bye Harry."