Random One Shots

Random one shots with actors, musicians/bands and characters.


152. Jeremy Renner 5 Part 2

~No fucking way. No, no, no. This is not fucking happening. Oh God, please, no. Fuck. No.
There was no mistake about it. The test in your hand read positive, and no matter how many times you shook it or your head, it didn’t change. Two solid, pink lines remained.
Your head was reeling. The panic swelled in your stomach, forcing your heart into your throat. All you could think was that this couldn’t be happening. You’d been careful. You’d been so god damn meticulously careful to make sure this didn’t happen. How the fuck were you going to explain this to Ryan? How the fuck were you going to tell Jeremy?
It’s his. It has to be. Fuck!
The thought itself made you feel like you were about to vomit. Your intestines felt like they were twisting into calculated knots, and the bile rose in the back of your throat. No, you were actually going to throw up. With one hand, you pulled your hair back, trying to hold it out of your face. You dropped next to the toilet and heaved a few times before expelling the contents of your stomach.
It was the vomiting in the first place that made you take the test. You’d been puking daily for over a week, but otherwise felt fine. So, it couldn’t have been food poisoning or a stomach bug. Even Ryan had noticed that you were a bit different. He was concerned enough that he’d offered to make you an appointment to see your doctor.
After brushing your teeth for what seemed like the thousandth time, you grabbed your phone off the counter. There was no need to look through your contacts. His number had long since been deleted, but you had it memorized. Your fingers flew to type it in, and you hit the ‘call’ button.
He picked up after two rings. There was a hint of astonishment in his voice as he said your name, probably just to double check that it was you.
“Well, this is a surprise. How have you been?” The shock in his tone shifted to longing and dismay. You shook your head, reminding yourself that this wasn’t like old times. You weren’t calling him to see what he wanted for dinner, or to tell him you loved him. No, this was strictly informative.
“I’m okay. Listen, Jeremy, we need to talk.” He sighed, and for a second, he sounded fearful of what you were about to say.
“Then talk, sweetheart. I don’t have a whole lot of time.” You swallowed hard, contemplating the best way to say it. There was a brief silence that felt like it went on for minutes, but you had made a snap decision, figuring it would be for the best.
“Not over the phone. We need to discuss this face-to-face. When are you free?” On his end of the line, there was a shuffle of papers, a hiss and a curse, and a tearing sound.
“I’m done filming here in about two hours. You want me to drop by?” The lump in your throat hardened more, and you couldn’t seem to choke it back to speak. You clenched your eyes shut and let out a shaky exhale.
“Hey, are you okay? Do I need to come over now? Look, I’m sure the boss man will let me leave if-“ You cut him off abruptly, not ready to see him just yet. You needed to talk to Ryan about it first.
“No, Jer. It’s… It’s okay. I’m fine. Just let me know when you’re on your way and I’ll meet you outside, alright?”
“I… Okay. Alright, yeah,” he mumbled, sounding unconvinced. You whispered a quick goodbye and hung up, putting your phone back on the counter.
As promised, his text arrived two hours later.
From: Unknown Number
On my way. See you soon. xx
You almost answered him to tell him not to come. You were surrounded by a mess of food, shattered glass, and clothes. Ryan hadn’t taken it well when you told him. You had expected him to be angry, but you had never expected that he’d react like that.
His first strike was the back of his hand colliding with your face. The backswing alone was enough to make you cringe, but it was nothing compared to the rage-fueled collision. His next was the kitchen table. He’d grabbed the edge and flipped it over, catapulting plates and dishes across the room. The symphony of breaking glass was only momentarily disrupted by his brutal tirade of insults. He hurled every word in the book at you, and the only thought that processed was that you deserved it.
Ryan had departed to pack at that point, and you felt frozen. You couldn’t move from the spot, despite the stinging in your cheek and the blood in your mouth. A bruise was already beginning to form under your eye, and Ryan had just one last thing to say before leaving.
“I hope he doesn’t want it,” he spit venomously. “You deserve to be alone. You deserve to suffer alone.”
You still hadn’t moved. You stood there, phone in hand, trying to sort everything out. A few more texts came through within a few minutes of Jeremy’s first text, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from the mess. It wasn’t until you heard the front door open and a fearful ‘holy shit’ that you finally blinked away tears and looked elsewhere.
Jeremy stood in the doorway between the dining room and the living room. His steely eyes were open wide and his mouth was slightly ajar.
“Jesus Christ, what happened in here?” he started. As soon as his gaze came to rest on your face, though, his demeanor switched. “What happened? What did he do to you?”
You couldn’t bring yourself to answer, but you gestured to the floor. Jeremy stepped through the mess. The glass already in disarray further crumbled under his boots, creating a melody of crackles and crunches.
“Look at me, honey. What did he do to you? Did he hurt you?” You snorted inwardly.
“Not as badly as I hurt him,” you muttered, looking down at your stomach. You weren’t showing yet, but it wouldn’t be long. Jeremy didn’t seem to notice the act, though. He was apparently more preoccupied with whatever had taken place.
“What happened?”
“Jeremy, I’m pregnant.” Both of his brows quickly shot up, and he asked you to repeat yourself.
“I’m sorry?”
“You heard me, Jer. I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant, and it’s yours.” You were expecting him to be furious. You were expecting him to storm out, or at least spit out a slew of profanity. He’d been quick to abandon you when he found out you wanted to get married, and you assumed the worst, thinking he’d be no different this time around.
You didn’t expect the grin on his face. He was smiling like the Cheshire cat with a beam that stretched from ear to ear, and he just started laughing, putting his hand on your stomach.
“Are you fucking serious?” he whispered between chuckles. You nodded, and he carefully began to let his hand run in circles across your skin. “I’m gonna… We… Can I… Shit.”
He took a deep breath to organize his thoughts.
“I’m gonna be a dad. Holy fucking shit.” The way he said it cracked your distraught exterior, and you had to smile.
Jeremy buried his face in the junction of your neck and shoulder, still chuckling. He continued to mutter into your skin his amazement and excitement. You draped your arms over his shoulders, and he reciprocated, looping one arm around you back and keeping his hand on your stomach.
“Does this mean I can come home now?” he finally asked, looking up at you. His eyes were filled with tears and genuine curiosity. You hesitated, though, searching for the lie. When you were incapable of finding it, you nodded.
“On one condition,” you interjected before he could get too excited.
“Anything, sweetheart. You name it.”
“Don’t leave us, Jeremy. I can’t take you leaving again. If you’re going to be here, then be here unconditionally.” He nodded, pressing his lips briefly to yours. His boots kicked the mess out from under him, and he dropped to one knee.
“I don’t have a ring right now, since this was kind of a surprise and all, but I want you to marry me. Not just because you’re pregnant either. I want us to be a family. Me, you, and this little bean.” He leaned up and kissed your stomach, whispering a quick ‘I love you’ to it. “A real family. All of us. In our house, babe. What do you say?”

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