Chapter Text
The morning light filtered through the curtains of their bedroom, casting a warm, honey-colored glow over the hardwood floors. For Amanda, the world felt quieter than it ever had before—not the silence of emptiness, but the hushed, reverent stillness of a long-awaited miracle.
She stood before the full-length mirror in just her underwear, her skin pale and luminous in the early light. Her hands, fingers spread wide, rested gently over the curve of her abdomen. It wasn’t a massive change yet; to a stranger, it might just look like a heavy lunch. But to Amanda, who knew every line and contour of her own body, it was a monumental shift. Underneath her palms was the heartbeat they had prayed for, cried for, and waited through months of "maybe next times" to finally hold.
A soft, private smile grazed her lips. She traced the slight swell, her thumbs brushing against the soft skin. You’re really in there, she thought, a lump forming in her throat. We’re really doing this.
“Baby? What’s taking you so long?”
The voice belonged to Angela, vibrating with that familiar, energetic warmth that always managed to ground Amanda. Before Amanda could even formulate a response, the door creaked open further.
Amanda didn’t turn around. She kept her gaze fixed on the mirror, watching as Angela’s reflection entered the frame. Angela stopped in the doorway for a heartbeat, her expression shifting from playful impatience to something profound and tender. The sight of Amanda—vulnerable, glowing, and protective—seemed to take Angela’s breath away.
“I think it’s time we tell everyone at work,” Amanda said softly, her eyes meeting Angela’s in the mirror.
Angela didn’t say anything at first. She just walked across the room, her movements uncharacteristically slow, as if she didn't want to break the spell of the moment. She stepped up behind Amanda, the height difference making it easy for her to tuck her chin toward Amanda’s shoulder.
Angela’s arms wound around Amanda’s waist, her smaller hands overlapping Amanda’s on the baby bump. The contrast of their skin, the shared heat, and the unified focus on that small curve of life made the room feel smaller, safer.
“Okay,” Angela whispered, pressing a lingering, soft kiss to the curve of Amanda’s shoulder. “We’ll tell everyone at work.”
Angela began to sway them slowly, a rhythmic movement that felt like a dance without music. She began to hum the low, sweet melody of Moon River—a song they both knew, something that felt like home.
And for weeks, the secret had been a beautiful burden. At the Smosh office, life moved at a breakneck pace. There were pitches to write, "Try Not to Laugh" episodes to film, and the constant, chaotic energy of a found family that thrived on oversharing.
Amanda and Angela were used to being part of that chaos. They were the duo that could turn a simple improv prompt into a twenty-minute saga. But lately, Amanda had felt like she was playing a character even when the cameras were off. She had been wearing oversized hoodies, claiming she was "just leaning into the cozy aesthetic," and swapping her usual midday coffee for ginger ale to combat the nausea she told everyone was just "a touch of stomach flu."
Angela, for her part, had become a stealthy protector. She was always the first to offer to grab lunch, ensuring there was something bland enough for Amanda to stomach. She was the one who steered Amanda away from physically taxing sketches, citing "a weird back thing Amanda’s dealing with."
But as they stood there in their bedroom, the swaying felt like a transition. They were moving out of the private cocoon of their joy and into the reality of sharing it with the world.
“How do we even do it?” Amanda asked, leaning back into Angela’s chest. “Do we just announce it at the production meeting? Do we make a bit out of it?”
Angela chuckled, the vibration thrumming against Amanda’s back. “Knowing us? We’ll probably accidentally reveal it because I’ll get too excited and scream during a funeral bit.”
Amanda laughed, a genuine, chest-deep sound. “Please, no. Let’s try to be at least a little professional.”
“Professional?” Angela teased, kissing her shoulder again. “In that building? We’re going to tell Shayne and he’s going to do that high-pitched laugh or scream and probably fall over. Courtney will cry immediately. Arasha will have that knowing look on her face. Chanse will probably slap me for not telling him. It’s going to be a mess, ‘Manda. A beautiful, loud, mess.”
The day they decided to tell the crew, the air felt electric. Amanda dressed carefully, choosing a sweater that was fitted enough to show the bump if you were looking for it, but loose enough to keep the suspense for a few more hours.
As they pulled into the parking lot, Angela reached over and squeezed Amanda’s hand.
“Ready, Mama?”
Amanda took a deep breath, looking at the familiar building that housed so much of their history. “Ready.”
Walking through the halls of Smosh felt different today. Every greeting from a producer, every "hey" from an editor felt like a precursor to the big moment. They decided to wait until the end of the day, during a scheduled cast meeting where everyone would be gathered in the main lounge.
A few hours later, the meeting was winding down. Kiana was going over the shooting schedule for the following week when Angela caught Amanda’s eye. Angela gave a tiny, encouraging nod.
“Actually, before we wrap up,” Amanda started, her voice slightly shaky.
The room went quiet. Shayne, who had been joking with Damien, turned his full attention to her. Courtney tilted their head, sensing the shift in energy.
Amanda stood up, and Angela immediately moved to stand beside her, slipping an arm around her waist just as she had in front of the mirror that morning.
“Angela and I have been keeping a little secret,” Amanda said, her hand instinctively drifting to her stomach. “And we’re finally ready to share it with our favorite people.”
She took a breath and looked at Angela, who was beaming so brightly she looked like she might vibrate out of her skin.
“We’re having a baby,” Amanda whispered, though in the silence of the room, it rang out like a bell.
For a split second, there was total silence. Then, just as Angela predicted, the room exploded.
Shayne let out a joyous shout, jumping up from his seat. Courtney was already across the room, throwing their arms around both of them, tears immediately springing to their eyes.
“I knew the hoodies were suspicious!” Ian joked, though he was the next one in line to offer a congratulatory hug, his face softened by genuine happiness.
“You bitch!” They heard Chanse shout as he made his way to the front to engulf the two of them in a hug, tears already forming on his eyes.
The next hour was a blur of questions, belly-touches (with permission), and sheer, unadulterated love. Amanda felt a weight lift off her shoulders. She didn’t have to hide the bump anymore. She didn’t have to hide the fact that her life had changed forever.
As the sun began to set over the studio, casting long shadows across the set pieces and camera rigs, Amanda found herself back in the breakroom, sipping water. Angela appeared by her side, sliding an arm around her as if they were tethered by an invisible string.
“See?” Angela whispered. “I told you they’d be happy.”
“They’re family,” Amanda said, leaning her head on Angela’s shoulder.
“They are,” Angela agreed. “And we’re starting our own little family now, too.”
They stood there for a moment, watching their friends laugh and work in the distance, two expectant parents standing in the middle of a beautiful, chaotic life, waiting for the newest member of the cast to make their grand debut.