#Went to get the flu shot. Father said you had to make an appointment for the covid shot so I was like okay I'll do it later

[theoogtree]

Went went to the hospital to get one (1) shot and came back with three (3)!!!!!!! shots

[btsqualityy]

Assuage: Chapter 13

Yoongi x Reader

Genre: ABO (Alpha/Beta/Omega) dynamics, angst, fluff, smut, enemies to lovers

Warnings: None to note.

When you woke up the next morning, you could barely breathe from the lump that was Min Yoongi resting on top of you. 

Looking down, you smiled when you saw his head on your chest with his cheek smushed against your breast, his nose resting at the base of your neck. His legs were intertwined with yours and you couldn’t help but to notice how nicely your scent mixed with his as they both hung in the air. 

You still couldn’t believe how quickly things had moved between you and Yoongi, when you had the time to sit down and really think about it. You had never expected to even want to be in the same room with him but now, you had definitely fallen for him and at the rate that things were going, you knew it wouldn’t be long until you fell in love with him. 

“You’re thinking too loud,” Yoongi suddenly grumbled, and you smiled as you reached down and set your hands in his hair. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. 

“What time is it?” He asked and you glanced over at his bedside table, taking note of the time on the clock that sat there.

“8am.”

“I don’t function before 10 so let’s go back to sleep,” he muttered.

“I’m gonna have to raincheck,” you giggled. “I need to go to the Head Hall and talk to my brother about some things.”

“Everything ok?” 

“More than,” you assured him. “It’s just some small stuff, nothing serious.”

“And you have to go now?” He whined. “And leave me here, all alone, with only the remnants of your nest and your scent to remind me that you were even here?”

“You are so dramatic, what the fuck Yoongi?” You laughed. “I have an appointment with a pregnant Omega at 10 so I need to go talk to Joon before he gets too busy.”

“Ugh, fine,” he relented, lifting his head and opening his eyes to look at you for the first time this morning. “Wanna meet for lunch?”

“I’m booked up all day,” you grimaced. “What about dinner? You could come to my place and I’ll cook for you, for a change.”

“Sounds good,” he nodded, leaning up and kissing you gently. “I’ll see you later then baby.” After pressing a few more gentle kisses to his lips, you managed to pull yourself away from him and hop into his shower. Once you were out, you may or may not have snagged one of his flannel shirts from his dresser drawer before pressing another kiss to his forehead and sneaking out of his house. 

Your walk to the Head Hall was quick, given that you’d been making the same walk literally since you were born; first to visit your father and now, to visit your brother. Once you stepped inside, you climbed the massive staircase that led you to the second floor and you walked over to stand in front of Namjoon’s secretary’s desk.

“Hi Y/N!” Mina greeted you cheerfully and you couldn’t help but to smile back.

“Hi Mina. Where’s Tae?” You wondered, since Taehyung was Namjoon’s usual secretary.

“He called in with the “flu”,” she giggled. “Though if you ask me, I think he just didn’t want to pull himself away from that Alpha of his.”

“Most likely,” you laughed in agreement. “Is Namjoon here though?”

“Just got here about 20 minutes ago,” she nodded. “Go on in.”

“Thanks,” you said before stepping around the desk and knocking on the door to Namjoon’s office.

“Come in!” You heard him say and you pushed open the door, sticking your head inside a little so that he could see you.

“Busy?” You wondered and he shook his head as he motioned for you to come inside. You did so, making sure to shut the door behind you before you walked over to sit in one of the chairs that sat in front of his desk. You always got a bittersweet feeling whenever you went to visit Namjoon, since his office used to actually be your father’s before he was killed. 

“You know, as your older brother, I’m not even gonna ask why you reek of Min Yoongi because I don’t want to know,” he spoke up before you even had the chance to say anything, which made you smirk as you looked at him.

“Oh please, as many times as Tae and I accidently caught you and Hyo making out when we were teenagers,” you snickered, making Namjoon’s cheeks redden. “You can deal with some scenting.”

“You smell like you did a whole lot more than scenting or making out though,” he laughed and it was your turn for your cheeks to redden. “But what’s up?”

“Well, I wanted to check in with you and see what you thought about Yoongi,” you told him.

“Why would you ask me that?” He wondered with a chuckle as he sat back in his chair. “We both know that you’re gonna do whatever you want regardless of what I may have to say. You always have.”

“Yeah but you’re Pack Alpha and you’re also my only big brother,” you said. “Ideally, I’d like to have your approval.”

“But you don’t need it, given your status within the pack,” he pointed out and you rolled your eyes at him bringing that up.

“Well, give me your opinion according to my new status,” you replied.

“I like him well enough,” Namjoon sighed as he crossed his arms over his chest. “He seems strong and dependable, and he’s a damned good hunter so I know that he’d be able to provide for you and protect you. However, he’s a little on the quiet side.”

“What’s wrong with being quiet?”

“Nothing, if it doesn’t seem like someone is using that to hide something,” Namjoon shrugged. “He seems almost too quiet. Plus, I really wish we knew more about how he ended up almost dead and why whoever did that to him would just leave him there.”

“You think it was his fault?” You questioned with an arched brow.

“No, but you know as well as I do that if a person is thrown out of their pack, most of the reasons behind it aren’t positive ones,” he responded. 

“Still, it probably wasn’t his fault,” you replied.

“Probably, but the possibility is always going to be there until he tells us otherwise,” Namjoon shot back. “You wanted my opinion, that’s a part of it.”

“Hyo said that you said that you thought we’d make a good match though,” you brought up, making Namjoon groan loudly.

“God, I love that woman but she talks too much,” he huffed, making you chuckle. “When I said that, I meant it on the basis of our biology. I almost expected the two of you to be attracted to each other, and I wasn’t at all surprised when you showed up with that necklace on.”

“So you do approve then?” You pressed him.

“Yes Y/N-ah, I approve,” he relented as he rolled his eyes. 

“That’s all I wanted to hear,” you smiled. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” he shrugged and it was then that you noticed something in his sandalwood and pine scent was off.

“What’s wrong?” You asked him, and he sighed heavily before telling you.

“Hobi caught some lurkers on the edge of our territory last night,” he revealed, making your eyes widen. 

“Seriously?” You gasped. “You think it’s anything to be concerned about?”

“I think it’s Seo-hyun’s pack,” he confessed and you immediately felt anger cloud your senses once you heard that name. 

“Are you fucking serious?” You spat and Namjoon nodded.

“Seo-hyun has been the one that’s been pressuring the packs around here to fight over territory,” he reminded you.

“Just like he did before the Great Pack War,” you added.

“Exactly, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he sent those lurkers just to test me and see what I would do,” he said.

“Well, what are you going to do?” You wondered.

“I’m still working on that,” he replied honestly. “But whatever I come up with, I’m gonna try not to take it to the extremes of war again. That’s the last thing that this pack or any of the other packs need.”

“Agreed,” you nodded. “Well, I’ll let you get back to work.” You stood up from the chair and after he nodded at you, you turned around and walked towards the door. Just as your hand wrapped around the door knob, Namjoon called out to you.

“Y/N-ah?” He said and you turned around again to look at him. “Your heat’s coming up soon, right?”

“You know, you’ve been Pack Alpha for seven years now but I’ll still never get used to you knowing my heat cycle,” you blushed lightly.

“Trust me, it’s not my favorite piece of knowledge to have but you would’ve had to do it too if you kept your former status,” he pointed out. 

“To answer your question though, yes it’s coming up in like a week or so,” you told him. 

“You should tell Yoongi before then,” he advised you. “You know what I’m talking about?”

“Yeah, I know,” you smiled softly. “I’m gonna tell him. I just...have to figure out how to.”

“I get it,” Namjoon nodded. “Have a good rest of your day Y/N-ah.”

“You too Joon,” you replied before turning around and stepping out of his office, shutting the door behind you.

....................................................................

“Ok, so no offense or anything,” Yoongi began but you interrupted him.

“That’s usually what someone says right before they offend you,” you pointed out, making Yoongi laugh loudly.

“This probably will offend you but I have to say it, it looks like an actual blueberry in here,” Yoongi chuckled as he looked around your cabin. The two of you had been sat on your couch, eating the chili that you had cooked for dinner. This was his first time actually coming inside your house, and you were quickly regretting it.

“Blue is my favorite color,” you muttered petulantly. The walls in your living room were colored in powder blue, with the couch and two easy chairs matching it. Yoongi also couldn’t help but to notice how many vases you had with fresh carnations around as well.

“You like carnations?” Yoongi wondered.

“Love them,” you confirmed with a soft smile. “When I was little, my dad used to always get my mom a fresh bouquet of them every week. I got so used to having them in the house, I decided to keep it going once I got my own cabin.”

“They’re beautiful,” Yoongi said as he extended his arms towards you. You immediately moved closer to him, allowing him to wrap you up into a tight hug. 

“Missed you today,” you murmured as you nuzzled your nose against his scent gland on his neck. 

“I missed you too baby,” he whispered. 

“How was your day?” You questioned. 

“Busy,” Yoongi huffed. “Kibum didn’t feel well today so I ran the hardware shop by myself.”

“Really?” You gasped in surprise. “That’s great.”

“It was nerve wrecking,” he corrected you. “I wouldn’t have even done it if Kibum didn’t basically threaten my life.”

“Yeah, that’s how he gets what he wants,” you giggled. “How did it end up going though, besides being busy?”

“It was...good, actually,” he told you. “Since everyone mostly knows me now, it was smooth sailing.”

“Aw, look who’s a part of the pack now,” you cooed, and Yoongi laughed.

“I didn’t really expect to ever be,” he admitted. “Especially with me being an outsider.”

“Why?”

“Because in my old pack, being kind to each other wasn’t the norm,” Yoongi huffed. “And we definitely didn’t extend kindness to outsiders.”

“But you like it?” You guessed and he nodded.

“I do. I never thought I’d end up here, but I’m glad that I did,” he confessed, taking a second to lean down and press a kiss to the side of your head. 

“I’m glad that you did too,” you smiled. After saying that though, you couldn’t help but to hope that he would react well to your secret whenever you decided to tell him because you really were glad that he was there and you didn’t want to lose him. 

....................................................................

Tag List: @jikook-enthusiasts @veryuniquenamegoeshere @seolarsyj @littlrmills14-blog @preciouschimine @kt-rny @copenhagenspirit

[yikesharringrove]

billy shows up one night at steve's house plus his parents are there, not to make this unmade they covert him to dinner, steve doesn't know where to stick his face, after dinner Steve's mom sends him to fix the room because too late for mr. hargrove leave, but blly won't let this opportunity to fuck steve when his parents are at home,sleeping right?,i love to think of his mother knocking on the door after hearing a strange noise in question "Steve, are you taking good care of yourself.Hargrove?"

Special thank you to @justsomeonez for helping me with the Italian!

Steve looked frazzled when he opened the door.

His hair was sticking up in all directions from his hands tugging through it. He was in a cashmere sweater over a collared shirt, his khakis neatly pressed. His eyes were wide.

“Hey, Bill. What are you doing here?”

“I believe I had a standing appointment.” He was smirking, leaning against the doorway.

“My parents are home.” He barely had enough time for the smirk to drop of his face before Mr. Harrington appeared next to Steve, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Who’s your friend, Steven?”

“Billy Hargrove, Mr. Harrington, sir.” He gave his polite smile, extending his hand to Mr. Harrington, making sure not to be too firm.

“Has Steven invited you inside, or has he just been staring at you on the porch?” His hand flexed on Steve’s shoulder. Steve squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath, a move Billy recognized as Steve trying not to cry.

“Yes he did, I’m afraid I can’t stay. Just came to drop of some history notes.”

“And why would Steven need notes? I thought you were working harder.” His eyes were boring into the side of Steve’s head, Steve’s eyes at the ground.

“No, you see they’re his notes. I missed some school last week, caught a pretty nasty flu, and Steve was kind enough to take notes for me. He even got my homework and brought it to me. Helped me stay caught up.” Steve’s eyes were big as he looked at Billy, trying to convey his thanks, Billy go it, twitched on eye in the shadow of a wink.

He heard the click-clack of heels approaching, Mrs. Harrington appearing next to her husband.

“Who is our guest?” Her accent was thick, her smile was warm, but Steve had told him enough for him to know it was fake. He still smiled kindly at her, not wanting to turn on the charm when Mr. Harrington was right here.

“Billy Hargrove, ma’am. Good to meet you.” He shook her hand as well.

“Why are you outside? Stefano, bring him in.” She retreated back into the house, her husband trailing behind. She said something in Italian as she left. Steve gestured for him to come inside, miserably shutting the door.

“I’m very sorry about how shitty this evening is about to be. Nice save with he notes though.”

“It’s okay, Pretty Boy. You know I can charm with the best of them.” He lightly touched Steve’s upper arm.

Steve led him into the informal dining room, because Steve’s house had two fucking dining rooms. He gestures to the place across from his own seat, Mr. Harrington taking the end of the table, his wife seated across from him. Billy was careful to let Mr. Harrington serve himself first, held the plate while Mrs. Harrington helped himself, but went before Steve. His dad can say whatever he wanted, Billy knew his table manners. He figured Mr. Harrington would be a jackass if Steve served himself before a guest.

“So, Billy, I don’t believe I know your family.”

“No, sir. We moved to Hawkins last October.”

“Where did you move from?”

“San Diego, California.”

“Why did you move to Hawkins?”

“My dad got remarried and wanted a fresh start for our family. My step-mom, Susan, has a brother in Indianapolis.” It wasn’t totally a lie, the story Neil had spun for everyone in town. What he left out was catching Billy sucking off the guy from down the street.

“So your parents are divorced then?”

“Dad,” Steve knew this was a bit of a touchy subject, how Neil had told Billy to lie about his mother in this new town.

“It’s a perfectly fine question, Steven.” Steve lowered his eyes again, continuing to push his food around his plate, barely eating anything. Billy extended his leg under the table, bumping his foot into Steve’s who bumped him back.

“My mother passed away when I was eight.” She had left when he was eight, had been driven out by her abusive husband, but Billy wasn’t allowed to tell that story in this town.

“Che peccato!” Mrs. Harrington had put her fork down, staring intently at Billy. “How horrible, so young.” Billy just nodded at her, smiling awkwardly.

Dinner was mostly pretty quiet, Billy being asked a few more questions about his life, his family while Mr. Harrington would toss the odd jab at Steve.

“So you played basketball this year? That’s how you two became friends?” The dishes had been cleared away by the maid, Mr.s Harrington’s wine topped off again.

“Yes, sir.”

“And how was the season? We were so shocked when Steven quit swim team for basketball his senior year.” He gave Steve a pointed look. Steve just fidgeted with his hands. His father was livid when he quit the swim team. Had told him he was throwing away his one shot of college.

But Steve couldn’t even look at swimming pools anymore, couldn’t think of getting in one before his hands started to shake.

“Well our season went well. We took nearly took State Champion, came in second when one of our starters broke his elbow and couldn’t play.”

“Why didn’t we hear about this, Steven?”

“I um, I told you when the state game was. It was at the end of February.”

“I have no memory of that, Steven.” Steve just looked kinda blank. he knew there was no point arguing with his father even though he had told him when the game was, and even called the secretary he was fucking so that she could put it in his date book. “Don’t try to make me look like the bad guy, here.” Steve nodded.

“I’m sorry, sir.” Billy wanted to punch the smug look right off of Mr. Harrington’s stupid face.

“Well, Billy. It was certainly nice to meet you. I apologize, but I have some work I need to finish up.” Billy stood to shake his hand as he retreated to his gaudy home office. Billy got a smug feeling in his gut as he pictured Mr. Harrington working at the same desk he had fucked Steve on not even two days ago.

Mr.s Harrington stood as well.

“It was wonderful to meet you, Billy. Stefano never invites friends over.” Billy didn’t want to correct her, tell her Steve invited him over just about every night.

“Good to meet you as well.” She smiled at him, turning to Steve again.

“È troppo tardi perchè il tuo amico guidi fino a casa sua, accompagnalo in una delle stanze per gli ospiti.”

“Sì, Mamma.” Steve nodded at her. She wandered off in the direction of the master bedroom, again, Billy got a kick of knowing he had debauched Steve on that California King bed. “She said it’s too late for you to drive home and told me to make up a guest room for you.” He followed Steve up the stairs, keeping his distance until they reached the safety of the deserted hallway near his bedroom.

Billy pulled Steve to him, planting little kisses on his neck.

“God, I was really keepin’ a lid on it. I just wanted to vault the table and fight your dad.” Steve huffed, a little laugh as he batted Billy away.

“I’m glad you didn’t. He definitely wouldn’t hesitate to press charges.” Steve went into one of the guest rooms, mussing the covers on one side, slapping the pillow a few times. Billy raised an eyebrow. “Plausible deniability. In case someone comes in and you’re not here. Just saw you went to the bathroom, or something.”

“And why wouldn’t I be in here, Pretty Boy?” Steve just raised an eyebrow, leaving the room for is own. Of course Billy followed, locking the door behind them.

Steve was stripping off the second the door was shut, wiggling out of his neat khakis, leaving his expensive sweater on the floor, throwing the shirt near it. He was completely naked by the time he got to the bed, spreading himself out on it and giving Billy a dark look.

“You still wanna take the guest room?”

Billy was on him in a second, kissing all over his skin, careful not to leave any marks, knew Steve would get a lot of shit for it the next day.

“Gonna fuck you so good, we’ll both forget about your parents.” Steve moaned as Billy took him in hand, giving a few dry pumps. “Gotta be quiet though, Princess.” Steve nodded, eyes wide. Billy smirked wickedly, shoving Steve in half and lowering down, attacking his hole with his tongue.

Steve muffled his noises with his hand. Billy knew he could barely hold himself back from shrieking, had decided to play a little game with him. When Billy added another finger, his leg jolted at an odd angle, knocking several knick knacks off his bed side table with a loud thud.

They both froze, staring at one another for a second.

There was a rough knock on the door, followed by the doorknob rattling in it’s place.

“Stefano, va tutto bene lì dentro? Ho sentito una botta.” Steve was red as Billy stifled a laugh in his thigh.

“Sì! Sto bene! Sono solamente caduto dal letto!” He whimpered slightly as Billy started kissing his way up hi body, grinding his hips into Steve’s, one ifnger circling his rim.

“Allora cerca di essere più attento nel sonno”

“Sì, grazie Mamma. Buona notte!” They could hear her clacking dow the stairs, waited until they could no longer hear her footsteps before Billy sat up, grinning. Steve slapped his chest.

“She was right outside and you were doing stuff, you asshole.”

“You know how hot it gets me when you speak Italian, Stefano.” Steve slapped his chest again, pouting.

Billy kissed the pout right off his lips.

Italian translations:

"It's too late for your friend to drive home, show him to a guest room."

"Are you okay in there? I heard a noise."

"Yes! I'm fine! I just fell out of bed!"

"Try to be more careful in your sleep then."

“Yes, thank you, Mom. Goodnight!”

[440mxs-wife]

Test Results, Part 3

Pairing: Castiel x Reader

You awoke to find a pair of ocean blue eyes gazing in your direction. You smiled in return at the handsome face of Castiel, your boyfriend of five years. It had been almost a year since his grace was stolen from him, turning him into a human. Even though he lost his grace, it did nothing to diminish your feelings for Castiel. You were more than happy to share your heart and your bed with the one you love, whether he was an angel or a human.

"Good morning, Honeybee," he said in his husky morning voice.

"Good morning, my angel," you returned. You reached up with your left hand to caress his cheek. Castiel closed his eyes as he leaned into your touch then he kissed your palm. He rose up on his left elbow, while the back of his right hand gently grazed your face.

"So beautiful...." he whispered, just before he swiftly captured your lips with his in a fiery, passionate kiss. You felt the depth of his love behind it, along with a hunger you had not known before from Cas. Your fingers threaded their way through his raven black hair, massaging with your fingertips, earning a groan of appreciation from Cas.

You tilted your head back to expose your graceful neck to him. Cas dropped a trail of soft kisses across your neck, while he took nips at the skin here and there. One of those nibbles turned into more of a love bite at that sweet spot where your neck meets your collarbone. You gasped at the sensation, knowing he'd left a mark for all to see.

"Marking your territory, my love?" you teased.

"I merely want the world to know that you are mine, sweetheart," he grinned. "I love you."

"And I am yours, Castiel. Now and forever, yours and only yours," you replied. "I love you, too. Shall we wander into the kitchen to make some breakfast?" you asked.

"Hmm. I think I'd rather stay right here," Cas said huskily. "I can't wait for breakfast to be made, I'm too hungry now," he growled playfully and pulled the covers over both of you. Then he took you down the path of sweet discovery, giving and taking pleasure in each other.

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

A couple of months later, you were in the laundry room and had just finished moving clothes from the washing machine to the dryer. Suddenly, you felt the urge to run to the bathroom, where you proceeded to lose your breakfast. Castiel heard you getting sick, and once he found you, he rubbed your back and held your hair out of the way.

"Are you all right, Honeybee? Can I get you anything?" he asked in a worried tone.

"I'm fine, Cas. I think it was just something I ate. Let me get cleaned up, wash my face and brush my teeth. Then we can maybe watch a movie?" you suggested.

Cas drew you into his arms and kissed your forehead. "As you wish, sweetheart. I'll get you a washcloth to clean up, then I'll meet you in the living room," he promised. You nodded and gave him a lingering kiss on the cheek, which brought out his megawatt smile.

As you were patting your face dry, you started to wonder what could have caused you to get sick like that. It wasn't flu season, and you didn't think it was food poisoning. Wait a minute...., you thought as you did the math in your head. Oh no. You gripped the edges of the sink and checked your reflection in the mirror. What am I going to do? you wondered.

You slowly walked out to the living room area to where Castiel was sitting on the couch. He watched as you carefully sat next to him and leaned your head on his shoulder. He put an arm around you, drawing you close and kissed your forehead. "Is everything okay? You seem like you are still not feeling well," Cas remarked.

"Just a little tired I guess," you replied. As the movie played on, you found yourself less and less interested. Your thoughts kept drifting back to earlier when you were washing your face.

Cas noticed that your full attention wasn't on the movie. He paused it, which caused you to look up at his intense blue eyes. "I may not be able to read your mind anymore, but I have a feeling that there is something occupying your thoughts," he remarked.

You hesitated before answering. "Do you ever think about children? Having them, I mean?" you asked timidly.

This time it was Castiel's turn to hesitate. "Not really. I mean, I love children, they're a gift from my Father. But as an angel, if I were to have a child with a human, for example, it wouldn't be well-received. A nephilim has great power, and there are those who would not treat it kindly or want to kill it. I couldn't take that chance with the child or its mother. Why do you ask?" he finished.

"Only curious, Cas. Don't get me wrong, I love being together with you, just the two of us. But, I also have thoughts about being a mother as well," you added.

"Honeybee, you would make a wonderful mother, if and when that time comes," Cas assured you. He pulled you onto his lap so you were straddling him. Your arms went around his neck, to pull him closer to you. Your lips crashed together in a series of hot, fervent kisses, trying to leave no territory untouched.

Cas rested his head on the back of the couch, granting you access to his neck. You worked your way across to his collarbone, taking playful nibbles at his skin along the way. When you reached his sweet spot, you turned the nibble into a love bite, leaving your mark. You pulled back a little to see his lust-blown pupils, which fueled your desire.

Suddenly, Cas flipped you around so you were on your back on the couch. He inched up on the hem of your T-shirt, little by little, dropping sweet kisses on your lower torso. Your hands tangled in his hair, lost in the feel of his lips on your exposed skin. "Sweetheart," he murmured against your stomach. "Come fly with me," he whispered. You nodded and followed him to your room, where you continued what had begun in the living room. Good thing you remembered to lock the door.

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

A week had passed, and your bouts of nausea had not improved. You quietly made a doctor's appointment so that you would know once and for all if you were pregnant or not. You slipped out of bed early in the morning without waking Cas. You left a love note for him to see when he first woke up.

At the doctor's office, they drew a sample of your blood and sent it to the lab for testing. About an hour later, the results were confirmed. Pregnant. You thanked the doctor, then sort of stumbled your way out of his office and out to your car. As you sat behind the wheel, contemplating your next move, your phone rang. Caller ID said it was Sam, so you picked up.

Sam asked where you were, and he told you that you needed to get back to the bunker right away. He said that it had to do with Cas, so you said you'd be there as soon as you could. You hung up your phone and quickly headed for the highway to home. When you got there, you demanded to know where Cas was.

"He's gone," Dean replied.

"Gone?!? What do you mean gone??" you cried.

"His grace was found and an angel returned it to him, so he's back to being an angel now," Sam explained.

"The 'courier' angel said that Cas was urgently needed in Heaven to help settle the civil war going on up there. They didn't know how long he'd be gone, either. Cas tried desperately to get the angel to wait until he could say goodbye to you, but they wouldn't," Dean said. "Where were you, anyway?" he asked.

"I-I was at the doctor's office. My nausea wasn't getting any better, so I made an appointment. At least I know what's causing it, though," you answered.

"Well, what is it?" Sam asked.

"I'm pregnant," you whispered. "And Castiel is the father." You looked from Sam to Dean and back again, then burst into tears. Both men rushed to your side and engulfed you in a hug. They each whispered soothing words in your ear, telling you everything would be fine. They promised to be with you every step of the way.

Although you appreciated their kindness, the one you wanted by your side through all of this was currently unavailable. You didn't get to say goodbye to him before he went back to Heaven. He didn't even know that he was going to be a father.

You broke out of their hug a bit to face them. "You guys can't tell Cas. He's got too much going on up there, and he needs to focus. I don't want to give him anything more to worry about or have as a distraction. Please?"

Sam and Dean looked at each other in silent communication. "You have to tell him. At some point anyway," Sam gently pleaded.

"Yeah, pretty soon, you're not going to be able to hide that, no matter how big of a hoodie you wear," Dean chimed in. You shot him a dirty look, which effectively silenced any further comment from him about your body.

"Well, I won't be hunting anymore, that's for sure. I'll hang back here and do the research for you guys, which should keep me out of trouble," you reasoned.

"What should we do if we need to call Cas for help, and he asks where you are?" Sam wondered.

"You'll just have to tell him....I don't know, something. Say that I'm not feeling well, or I went to visit a sick friend, something like that. Unless you think I should go to Donna's or Jody's until the baby is born?" you asked.

"We'll just have to play it by ear for now. In the meantime, can we get you anything? Pickles and ice cream?" Dean teased.

"How about some egg rolls from my favorite place in town?" you asked hopefully.

"You got it, sweetheart. I'll go and get that, then some more beer too. For me and Sam, though. Be back in a little while," Dean said as he kissed your forehead.

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

A month or so later, you had your first sonogram. Sam went with you, and thus he got to hear the baby's heartbeat for the first time. You both had tears in your eyes at hearing the heartbeat from this miracle of life, growing and developing inside you. When the lab tech left the room so you could get changed back into your regular clothes, Sam turned to you.

"Thank you so much. It was a privilege to be here for that. Even though I know you'd rather have had Cas here, I'm honored that you chose to share that with me," Sam declared.

"You're welcome, Sam. You're right, I do wish he was here, but I had one of my best friends by my side. Thank you for agreeing to do this with me," you replied.

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

The next month wasn't quite so easy. Sam and Dean were on multiple hunts, sometimes back-to-back, so you had to go to your next doctor's appointment alone. You were kept busy with the research the boys needed, so that made time pass quickly.

Dean said that they had to call Cas in on a couple of cases, both for the extra manpower and for his healing capabilities. He said that Cas asked about you, and was genuinely disappointed that you hadn't come with them.

The civil war in Heaven was still going on, but Cas felt confident that it would be wrapped up soon. Cas asked the boys to tell you that he still loves you and can't wait to be with you again. Sam and Dean passed along the message and reminded you that you were going to have to tell Cas soon that he is going to be a father.

A couple of weeks later, you were in your chair, reading a book you had chosen from the library. Suddenly, you heard a whoosh of wings, and your beloved Castiel appeared. He wandered through the bunker, scanning for you. When his eyes locked onto yours, he ran towards you, reaching your position in three long strides. He cupped your face in both hands and drew you in for a long passion-filled kiss.

"Oh, Honeybee, how I have missed you. I couldn't stand to be away from you for one more minute. I love you so much," he gushed. "Is someone else here with you? I am detecting two heartbeats," he questioned. He looked down and saw that something about you had changed while he was gone. "Are you....is that....a baby?" he managed to ask.

You nodded, unable to speak at the moment. "I'm almost five months along now, Castiel. I'm so sorry that I wasn't here to say goodbye when you went back--" he cut you off.

"Whose baby is that?" he demanded.

"What?? Whose do you think it is?? Do you seriously not trust me to stay faithful to you, after everything we've been through?" you exclaimed.

He took a step closer to you, anger showing in his face. "Who is the father? Sam? Dean? Someone else?" he growled.

You looked him straight in the eye and said, "YOU are. This is your child. I got pregnant before you got your grace back, so this is a human baby not a nephilim. I can't believe this," you sobbed as you ran to your room.

Sam and Dean came down the spiral staircase in time to see you run off to your room in tears. They saw Cas sitting on the couch, his head in his hands. "Why didn't she tell me?" he wondered.

"Cas, buddy, she didn't find out for sure until the day you left to go back to Heaven," Dean explained. "She was at the doctor's office that day, getting a blood test for confirmation," he said.

"So, you and Sam have known? All this time? And didn't think to tell me?" Cas asked.

"I asked them not to," you replied. You walked over to the couch and sat down, but decided to keep your distance for the time being. "Cas, you were involved in a civil war up in Heaven. I knew you had a duty to fulfill. If I had told you that I was expecting your child, you wouldn't have been able to concentrate. You would have been too worried about me, which could have caused you to be distracted, then you could have been killed! I couldn't live with myself if that happened."

"You still should have found a way to tell me," Cas muttered. He swiftly rose from the couch. "I-I need to go somewhere and figure out what I'm going to do about all of this," he remarked.

"Cas, please don't go, you just got here! We can work this out together, just like we always have! I love you," you pleaded.

"I'm sorry," he replied and with a fluttering of wings, he was gone.

You sank onto the couch, too stunned to speak at first. Tears silently streamed down your cheeks as you realized that you may have just lost the love of your life, forever. In that moment, your heart broke a little more with the knowledge that your child may not get a chance to know its father. "Oh, Cas. I'm so sorry that I didn't tell you. I don't want to raise our child alone. I love you so much. Please come home," you whispered.

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

Another month went by, and still no word from Castiel. You prayed to him every night, begging him to come home, but he never appeared. Finally, one night, you made one of the hardest decisions of your life. You stopped praying to Cas, because you had decided to let him go. You would raise your child without him, and hope that wherever he is, he's happy.

Castiel was wandering around the hallways in Heaven. To the other angels, he looked like a shadow of his former self. He had a near-full beard, his clothes needed washing and he could benefit from a long, hot shower. The other angels steered clear of Cas, rather than risk his wrath at the slightest mistake.

Gabriel knew that Cas wasn't himself, and it was because he was heartbroken over you. The light was gone from Cas' eyes, and Gabriel knew only you could put it back. He asked Cas what had happened with the two of you. Cas explained about your last meeting and finding out about the baby. He assured Gabriel that it was conceived during the time he was human, so no nephilim to worry about.

"So, why aren't you down there with her right now, taking care of her?" Gabe asked.

"She withheld important information from me! She knew about the baby on the day I got back here to Heaven, and by the time I found out, she was almost five months along. Sam and Dean knew the whole time but didn't tell me, because she told them not to," he retorted.

"And why do you think she did that?" Gabriel wondered.

"She said....it was because I was up here, trying to stop the civil war. She thought that knowing about the baby would be a distraction, that I would worry too much," Cas replied.

"Would she have been right? If so, then she made her decision to withhold the information out of her love for you. She couldn't bear to have something happen to you if you were too worried about her and the baby on Earth," Gabriel explained. "Question is, do you still love her?" he asked.

A dawn of understanding came over Castiel and a smile crept across his face. "Of course I do! I love her with all of my heart. She's carrying my child, and I want to be there for the both of them," Cas declared.

"Good answer! I hereby discharge you from your heavenly duties to be with your true love and your child," Gabriel replied. Just then, they both felt a rumbling, and lights flickered for a few moments.

"What happened?" Cas asked.

"Uh oh. You'd better get cleaned up fast, my brother. That rumbling you felt? That's what happens when your soulmate lets you go," he explained sadly.

Cas hung his head. "She's been praying to me ever since I left, but I was too busy being hurt, that I didn't go to her," he remarked. "Time for that is over now. I have things to do," Cas said with a determined look on his face.

"Go get her, Castiel. Go get your soulmate back," Gabriel said softly.

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

"Okay, I think I've got everything. I'll only be gone at Ruthie's for a few days, for the baby shower and hanging out with her. If you guys need anything, though, just call me and I'll come back," you said.

"Will you get going?" Dean chuckled. "This is your first real vacation since who knows when. You deserve this, so go have fun. Hope you get lots of cool baby stuff at the shower. Don't worry, Sam and I will be fine, we can do our own research," Dean assured you.

Sam put your bags in the trunk of your 1968 Chevy Nova. You climbed into the driver's seat as best you could, given your current condition. "I'll call you when I get there. See you in a few days," you promised. Sam and Dean each leaned in through the window and kissed your forehead, then waved as you drove away.

When Sam and Dean returned from the garage, they saw Castiel standing by the map table. They exchanged glances between them and kept walking to the kitchen, not saying a word to Cas.

"Where is she? I need to see her," Cas pleaded.

Sam and Dean both ignored Cas for the moment, too focused on fixing themselves a snack and getting something to drink. "I know you both can hear me. Please, I need to know where she is. We have unfinished business between us," Cas remarked.

Dean was the first to speak. "You should've taken care of that a month ago," he seethed. "Do you know what it's been like for her ever since you left? She prayed to you every night, Cas, crying and begging you to come back. Every night. But you never came."

Dean continued. "Sam and I nearly had to force her to eat, so that she kept her strength up for herself and the baby. We went to her doctor's appointments with her. All stuff you should have been doing, had you been here. So, excuse us if we don't feel like telling you right now where she is. You've hurt her enough," Dean retorted.

"I realize that I didn't handle the situation very well when I first found out. And you're right, I should have worked this out with her long ago. I'm here now, though, and I need your help. One thing I have to know, though," he gulped. "Does she still love me?" Cas asked in a small voice.

Sam and Dean looked at each other in silent communication. "Of course she does, Cas. You know she's not one to hold a grudge. But, you have to know, she's been hurt pretty deep. It's going to take something huge on your part to win back her heart," Sam explained.

Cas reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, black velvet box. "I found this at a place that sells vintage jewelry. Do you think she will like it?" Cas asked.

The boys examined the contents. They both gave a low whistle in appreciation. "Cas, that's beautiful. Does this mean what I think it means?" Dean asked.

Cas grinned and nodded his head. "Will you help me? Please. I need her back in my life. I'm lost without her, and I want my child to know who his father is," he pleaded.

After a few agonizing seconds of exchanged glances, Sam and Dean nodded to signal that they were on board. "Okay, here's what we do," Dean grinned and rubbed his hands together conspiratorially.

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

"Boys? I'm home! Can someone give me a hand with my bags?" you shouted but were greeted with silence. "You know, they can help me take them out to the car, but bringing them back in? Must be too much to ask," you grumbled aloud. "Guys? Where are you and why aren't the lights on?" you asked.

At that moment, the main part of the bunker was awash in twinkling fairy lights. Rose petals were strewn about on every flat surface. You heard soft music playing in the background as you slowly descended the stairs, leaving your bags for later.

You picked up a few rose petals and brought them to your nose to inhale their scent. As you put them down, the voice that you had been longing to hear for the past month broke the silence.

"Hello, Honeybee," Castiel said softly.

"Cas?" you whispered. "Is it really you? Where have you been?" you asked, your voice thick with emotion.

"It really is me, and I've been....hiding up in Heaven, I guess you'd say. I had some things to sort out in my head, things about us, and the baby. But by the time I finished doing that, I thought I'd been gone too long to come back. That maybe you wouldn't want me anymore."

Cas continued. "Sweetheart, I am so sorry for all the hurt I caused you by not coming home to you sooner. I hope you can find it in your heart to someday forgive me. I want us to be together, a family with you, me and the baby. I am lost without you, and I want our son to know his father. I love you with all of my heart," Cas finished.

As Castiel was giving his speech, he was slowly walking towards you, until he was standing directly in front of you. He could see the tracks of your tears, which he wiped away with his thumb. You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, having missed it for so long.

"Cas....I've missed you so much. I prayed to you every night, but you never came. I thought that you didn't love me anymore, so I thought my only option was to let you go. I did that so that you would have a chance at happiness, even if it was with someone else," you explained.

"Honeybee, the only woman who has and will ever make me happy is you. In fact," he knelt down on one knee and withdrew the velvet box from his trench coat. "I have loved you from the moment I met you. You are kind, generous, funny and smart. Your outer beauty is only surpassed by your inner beauty. I can only hope to make you as happy as you have made me by being in my life. Will you marry me?" Cas asked.

He opened the box to reveal a simple yet gorgeous vintage engagement ring. Overcome by emotion and unable to speak for a few moments, you nodded your acceptance. "Yes! Yes, of course I will marry you! I love you, Castiel," you replied.

Cas took you in his arms and embraced you as carefully as he could, given the stage of your pregnancy. "Oh!" you felt a flutter in your belly that can only be described as your baby kicking. You placed Cas' hand on your stomach, just in time for the baby to kick again. A soft look of wonder crossed his face as a tear slipped down. "He knows who his daddy is, Cas," you explained.

He leaned down and kissed your belly. "Hello, little one. I'm your daddy. And even though we haven't met yet, I already know that I love you and would do anything for you." He turned to you with love shining in his eyes. "Thank you. You are my everything and I love you so much," he finished.

"I love you too, Castiel. Welcome home, my angel," you replied softly.

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: The Best Medicine

Rated: E

The Best Medicine

“Ugh. Anton, give me a gin and tonic, please. Actually, just the bottle of gin. It’s been one of those days.”

The man at the bar beside Belle chuckled as Anton put down her glass of gin and tonic, swirling the whisky in his tumbler around before downing it and ordering another.

“Drowning your sorrows as well?” Belle asked. The man nodded.

“Yep. Just got done being yelled at by my ex-wife in our attorney’s office for two hours. You?”

“My boss is a jerk. Well, she’s not technically my boss, but she likes to think that because she’s a doctor and I’m a nurse, the sun shines out of her ass and she can boss me around like I’m nothing.”

The stranger considered this for a moment and nodded. “I can understand your frustration. Sounds a lot like my ex, actually.”

Belle laughed, and she held out a hand. “I’m Belle.”

“Cameron. Cam to my friends.”

“Am I a friend?” Belle teased.

“Well, I think that might depend on whether or not I get to know you better.” Cameron indicated her half-empty glass. “Can I get you another?”

Belle looked at the very tempting bottle of gin behind the bar. One the one hand, she had an early shift the next morning and she didn’t want to be giving a batch of flu shots with a pounding headache. On the other hand, Milah Cassidy, the bane of Belle and all her colleagues’ existences, had made her day so miserable that when Dr Cassidy had finished her shift and finally left them alone, a collective cheer had gone up around the clinic.

On yet another hand, Ruby had been on at her to get back into the dating game for months now, and whilst Belle was in no way looking for anything remotely committed or long term, she had an itch to scratch just like any other woman with sexual desires, and if Cameron was willing to spend a little time with her scratching that itch, then why shouldn’t she indulge.

“All right,” she said.

Fresh drinks procured, Belle scooted along the bar to Cameron and leaned in a little closer.

“So, tell me about this terrible ex of yours.”

Cameron grimaced. “Ugh. I’d rather not, any more than you’d want to talk about your terrible boss.”

“True enough. Shall we leave aside the reasons why we’re drinking and talk about other things instead?”

Cameron chinked his glass against hers. “I think that’s an excellent idea.”

They talked for what felt like hours, although Belle was keeping an eye on the time and knew that it could not have been so long. She found out all sorts of things about Cam – his tastes in books and music and movies, his favourite food, the name of his childhood goldfish.

But not, she recalled after the fact, his last name.

It was getting towards the end of the evening and Belle was going to get up and leave. That was when the kiss happened. She wasn’t quite sure which of them had initiated it or if it had been a mutual reaction to a heavy and suggestive pause in the conversation. All she knew was that Cam was an excellent kisser and she was getting this man back to her place tonight by hook or by crook.

Cam, thankfully, was all too eager to go along with her suggestion to go back to hers, his voice low and husky, Scottish accent twice as strong now as he whispered all kinds of filthy promises in her ear and Belle’s knees nearly turned to jelly at the thought of it all.

Once inside her flat, they didn’t make it as far as the bed. Belle tackled Cameron down onto the sofa, wrestling with his tie and waistcoat buttons as he pulled her shirt open and yanked her bra cups down to free her breasts, tugging at her nipples and pinching them gently. Belle groaned above him, rocking her hips up against his and feeling his cock twitch and harden against her thigh. She finally succeeded in getting his shirt open and she raked her fingers over his chest, flicking at his own nipples and receiving a growl of lust in return for her efforts.

Belle grinned, sitting up to hitch her skirt up around her waist and pull her panties down, and letting Cameron undo his belt and fly, taking out his cock and stroking himself quickly to full hardness. There was an easy confidence in the way he moved, showing himself off for her evaluation almost, but as her fingers closed over his and increased the pressure on his shaft, pumping harder, she could tell that he was only holding on to his self-control by a thread. She grabbed her purse and rifled in it for a condom.

“Now I think it’s my turn.” Belle sat back on her knees, parting her folds with two fingers and unhooding her clit, already swollen and aching to be touched. She could feel the wetness gathering at her entrance, and she groaned as Cam took her up on her hint and pressed his thumb firmly against her pearl, rubbing in circles and making her hips jerk up against his touch, pushing her sex into his hand and welcoming one finger, then two, pressing up inside her, inner walls clutching desperately around them and pulling them in deeper towards her sweet spot. Cam’s other hand reached up for her breast, tugging at her nipple again, and Belle moaned unashamedly, digging her fingers into his chest. Oh yes, this was definitely enough to scratch that itch.

“Oh yes, yes, like that. Oh yes, Cam!”

Belle wondered if she’d scared her neighbours with her scream, before deciding that she really didn’t care, not when the orgasm had been so good. She took a few moments to get her breath aback and then shifted her weight, sinking down onto Cam’s cock and rolling her hips. His own thrust up to meet her, urging her on harder and faster until she was panting again, almost but not quite reaching the edge.

Then Cam found her clit again and squeezed roughly, making her see stars, her inner walls fluttering around his cock and pulling him over with her, a hoarse shout of her name echoing through the small apartment.

On shaking knees, Belle pushed herself up and let Cam pull out and get rid of the condom.

“Well, I think that satisfied an urge,” she murmured.

“Most definitely.” Cam pulled her down for long kiss, much softer and more sensual than the heated frenzy that they’d shared on the way back from the bar.

“Maybe we can actually make it to the bed for round two?” Belle suggested.

“As wonderful as that sounds, and as absolutely delicious as this evening has been, unfortunately I have a babysitter on the clock and she’s only paid up till midnight.” It was with obvious reluctance that Cam rolled off the sofa and began to set his clothes to rights. “But if you’re ever in the mood to share another evening like this, then I can usually be found at Anton’s if I’ve had a bad day. Which, let’s face it, is most days.”

Belle laughed, lying back on the sofa and getting one final appreciative glimpse of Cam’s ass before he pulled his trousers back up. “Me too.”

He kissed her again before he left, and Belle continued to lie on the sofa for a while, smiling at what had transpired.

She was still smiling all the way through her morning clinic shift, and Ruby immediately guessed that she’d finally had decent sex with another human being. In fact, Belle was smiling right up until the moment that Dr Cassidy spoke to her.

“Nurse French, I’ve just seen that your next patient is my son; my ex-husband’s bringing him in. He’s terrified of needles and he’ll probably scream the place down, but just stick the little drama queen. He’ll be fine.”

With this, Dr Cassidy moved away, and Belle was left completely stunned that someone with so little compassion, especially for scared children and especially for her own scared child, had become a doctor in the first place. Still, she was on a tight appointment schedule and she couldn’t just stand there in astonishment all day. She went out into the waiting room to call her next patient.

“Bae Gold?”

Bae did indeed look terrified at the prospect of getting his flu shot, but for a few seconds, Belle couldn’t heed him as she was too busy staring in amazement at his father.

“Hello, Cameron,” she said eventually.

“Hello, Belle.” He gave a slightly shy smile, which Belle returned. Bae looked up at his father.

“Do you know Nurse Belle, Daddy?”

“Erm, yes. We met yesterday. Nurse Belle is a… very special friend.”

“Oh.” Bae looked far too sage for his six years. “Did you go on a date?”

“Erm, sort of.”

“Are you going to go on another one? Tilly from next door can look after me again like she did yesterday.”

Cam looked at Belle, his eyes questioning, and she nodded.

“I would love to go on another date with your daddy, Bae. Come on, let’s get your flu shot done. It’ll only take a second.”

With the fascinating new knowledge that his daddy knew Nurse Belle, and completely absorbed in planning their date for them, Bae received his shot with no fuss at all, and after he and Cam had left, Cam giving her his number, Belle had to laugh out loud. Not only had she had great sex last night, she now had a date, and she could think of better revenge on Dr Cassidy than by sleeping with her ex-husband.

[twothumbsandnostakeincanon]

hey remember three hours ago when I said we should have more abortion fic WELL GUESS WHAT

“Ugh. Ughhhh. Ughhhhhhhh.” 

Peter raised an eyebrow. 

“Everything alright, darling?”

“Ughhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

Chris turned to look over now too. 

“Sweetheart?”

Stiles rolled over on the couch, revealing a distinctly queasy face. 

“I’m never going to be done with this flu. I’m going to be sick forever.”

Peter’s brow furrowed more deeply, reaching up to rub at Stiles’ feet as Chris came to crouch by Stiles’ head to check his temperature. 

“I thought you were feeling better,” Chris said, a question in his voice.

“I was, for most of the day, but just like the last few nights, as soon as I finished eating dinner it was like Kill Bill sirens going off in my stomach.” Stiles reached up to rub his eyes. “I’m still so fucking tired, too. Peter give me the bite so I don’t have the flu anymore.” 

“I can’t,” Peter said as he focused on pressure points that would hopefully help. “I’m not an Alpha and you said I’m not allowed to murder for power without getting permission first.” 

“I give you permission. I give you permission to murder anyone you want if it means I won’t feel like barfing anymore.” 

“As co-leader of the permission board, I’m pulling your authority to give permission,” Chris said, running a soothing hand through Stiles’ hair. 

“Based on what?” Stiles replied, trying to sound indignant despite lacking the energy to make it work.

“Altered state of mind due to illness.”

“Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.” 

A few minutes later, Stiles gave in and just went to bed early, declaring his body to be, “Too full of shit fuck and bastard to be conscious.”

Peter and Chris heard the bedroom door close from the living room. Chris glanced at Peter, finding his expression tense. 

“He’s been pretty nauseous for the last week,” Chris said quietly. “More tired too.” 

Peter looked back at him, lips pursed. 

“He’s been saying that he thinks he needs a new binder too, because his chest hurts lately.” 

They both looked at each other, silent for a few moments. 

“How many times did he get up to pee during dinner?” Chris asked, even though they both knew the answer.” 

Peter swore under his breath and then got up, grabbing his keys. 

“Clearblue?” he suggested.

“Early Response,” Chris countered. “I think he’s still a couple days off from a missed period.” 

Peter swore again and then left the house. 

__________

Stiles took the stick into the bathroom the next morning with an eye roll. 

“It’s just the flu you guys. You’re being ridiculous.” 

“Just humor us, baby,” Chris said, chivying him into the en suite. 

Five minutes later, Stiles walked out of the bathroom, brow furrowed. 

“Two lines means not pregnant, right?”

That was Not Right. 

Stiles sat in the middle of their king sized bed, stunned. Chris was on the phone, rescheduling all his meetings for the day, and Peter was making a list of every cure for morning sickness (or in Stiles’ case, evening sickness) that he could find. Eventually Chris finished and hung up, bringing the motion and sound of the room to a standstill. 

Everyone looked at each other silently for a moment. 

“Oh goddamnit,” Stiles burst out, hopping off the bed and making a beeline for the bathroom again. “I haven’t even had anything to drink yet today!” 

Chris sat on the bed with a huff as they waited for Stiles to finish. He and Peter eyed each other warily, both unsure of how to begin the conversation.

Once Stiles came back, he climbed back up on the bed between his two boyfriends and clapped his hands once, rubbing them together. 

“So! There is… an embryo. Living in me. Living a little embryonic life. It’s already been a zygote, a morula, and a blastocyst. I think there are some other stages between that and embryo, but you’ll have to forgive my lapse in memory, because apparently I’m fucking pregnant oh my god.”

Chris and Peter both reached over to hug him, ending up with everyone dragged down into a cuddle pile in the middle of the bed. Stiles was breathing a little too quickly for comfort, but he wasn’t shaking and he wasn’t crying- just repeating oh my god oh shit oh my god under his breath as he tried to calm down. 

“How do we even figure out whose it is?” Stiles wondered out loud. 

“Does… that matter?” Peter asked slowly. 

Stiles shrugged as wildly as he could while pressed between the two others. 

“I don’t know! I’ve never done this before! I don’t know anything! I don’t-” He bit his tongue, cutting off any more words for a moment before he continued. “I feel like… what happens next isn’t just my decision, is it? Whoever- whoever’s sperm won the marathon should have like. Some input. Right?”

Chris cleared his throat uncomfortably. 

“Well. It’s your body. Even though one of us, uh…”

“Knocked you up,” Peter supplied helpfully. 

“-Well, yes. Even though one of us did that, it’s still going to be your uterus, and your morning sickness, and your possible gestational issues, and your possible dysphoria, and your labor and delivery-”

“Yeah, yes, alright,” Stiles cut him off, breathing a little faster again. 

Chris spoke more quietly as he said, “It’s about whether you want to be pregnant, or do any of the things that come after pregnancy, Stiles.”

“I don’t,” Stiles blurted. 

It was like the balloon of tension in the room had been popped. 

Everyone sighed in relief. 

“I don’t want to be pregnant. I don’t want kids. Not right now, maybe not ever? I don’t know, but I definitely don’t want this right now.” 

“Oh thank God,” Peter said. “I don’t either.”

Chris leaned forward and kissed Stiles on his forehead. 

“Then we’ll support you.” 

“What about you?” Stiles asked nervously. 

“What about me?” Chris asked back, eyebrow raised. 

Stiles rolled onto his side so that Peter was draped over his back, peering over his shoulder to look at Chris too. 

“Well,” he said. “Of the three of us, you’re the only one with real parenthood experience. Do you… I don’t want to make it sound like I’m suggesting a replacement daughter, but is that something you want to do again someday? Is it something you think about?”

Chris was silent for a moment, not really looking at anything as he tried to organize his heart into thoughts. 

“Being a father was the most important thing in my life,” he eventually said. “Which is exactly why I’m sure that if you don’t want to be one, then you shouldn’t be one. If I did have another child, I would love that one as much as I loved Allison- but it’s not something I’m looking for. It’s not something I need. It’s an idea that scares the shit out of me, if I’m being honest.” Stiles sagged in relief, and Chris’ eyes crinkled in a smile as he leaned forward to kiss his forehead again. “We’re all fine, Stiles. Everything is going to be fine.” 

Stiles grabbed Peter’s hand as he wiggled forward, bringing him with him to condense their snuggle sandwich closer to Chris. 

“I guess I’ll call Planned Parenthood then,” Stiles mumbled into Chris’ chest as Peter quietly rumbled at his back. 

“The one you went to when you were looking into hormone therapy?” Peter questioned.

“Yeah, they’re chill, and I think they do in-clinc abortions on Wednesdays. Or like, every other Wednesday? Maybe one Wednesday a month?” 

They called, and scheduled the procedure for the first available appointment in three weeks. 

(On a Friday.)

They used the rest of their morning to cuddle, and plan what Stiles was calling “Yeet the Embryo Day.” 

It wasn’t until they got up for lunch that Peter said, “Technically, you were right last night.”

A crease appeared in Stiles’ forehead. 

“Right about what?”

“We’re not married. Your body is full of bastard.” 

__________

Three weeks later, Stiles was propped on the couch with his head in Peter’s lap, feet in Chris’ lap, and a heating pad on his own lap. 

“How are you feeling, baby?” Peter asked, stroking the skin on Stiles’ neck as he drew some of the pain away. “I can’t help too much otherwise we might miss the signs of complications.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Stiles said, voice a little drowsy. “I’m okay anyway. My cramps aren’t too bad. Honestly,” he continued with a pointed look at Chris, “my hip hurts more than anything else.” 

Chris rolled his eyes with a crooked smile. 

“I apologize, again, for my blood type.”

“Whatever, Mr. Rh positive,” Stiles shot back. “We were almost out of there. The procedure was over! But noooo, someone had to bring up that I’m O negative-”

“I’m O negative too,” Peter said smugly, happy to be on the “not my fault” side of things. 

“Exactly!” Stiles exclaimed. “You might have been the one that got me pregnant! We don’t even know that the embryo had Chris’ weird little supply of A positive blood-” 

“Stiles, you said yourself that you don’t know whether or not you want to have kids someday,” Chris reminded him. “The RhoGAM just prevents your body from automatically attacking any future embryos, okay? Just in case.” 

“They let a nursing student give me the shot, Chris.” 

“You could have said no.” 

“I didn’t want to be rude!” 

Chris just leaned over to give him a kiss.

“What if we replace the boring bandaid with a Batman one after your shower?” 

Stiles immediately brightened up. 

“Yeah! God. It’s so good we’re not having a baby. More Batman bandaids for me.”

[awkwardpsyduck]

Hi! Love your writing btw Do you think you could write about Izuku, Kirishima, and all might with a s/o who has a fear of doctors/ needles and they go with them to their appointment/ shots? You don’t have to write it if you don’t want to! Lots of love🤍 ⊂((・▽・))⊃

Thank you so much! I am glad you enjoy!

Info: Gender neutral, Izuku and Kirishima aged up about 23/24, all three dating and living with their s/o (separate asks), not quite the request, but these are what came to me and hope you like!

Warning: Needle/shots, hospitals, injury, slight blood, swearing….ugh think that is all

Izuku Midoriya: Flu Shot

You had reread the paper in your hand at least three times already and as it finally sunk in you would let out a groan. Due to a virulent strain of the flu going about and at least two agencies cut to half staff because of it the Hero Commission had sent out a mandate that everyone was to get their flu vaccination by the end of the week. You understood, you really did and fully supported the idea, but why did it have to be a damn shot! Laying your head on the kitchen table your ears would pick up the sound of steps coming closer before the chair next to you was being pulled out, “So I see you got the notice too” Izuku would say with a small sigh, knowing full well you would not be happy.

There were two things about shots that got you, but you really did not count it under a fear. The first was that you could not stand the sight of a needle going into your skin be it for something to be injected or blood to be drawn, but that was easy to deal with as you just closed your eyes until it was over. IV’s were a bit more iffy, but usually the gauze over the actual spot was enough to ease you. The other part was worse and why you absolutely despised getting any vaccine from the flu shot to tetanus and that was no matter what it was you always had some sort of bad reaction. The injection site swelled up, you got a fever or even once had a rash for a week down your arm!

You had explained all this to your boyfriend once when the topic of the flu shot came up in the previous years and he understood, but now you had to do it or you would get suspended until you did according to the letter. Groaning once again into the table you would turn your head to look at him and would see that he did feel bad about it, but your jobs were too important to let something like this stop you. Taking a deep breath you would sit up and sigh, running your fingers through your hair a bit, “I’ll call work and see about taking two days off just in case and then we can go to the clinic in the morning” you reason, though your tone was a bit bitter. Izuku would give you a soft smile, proud of you of course, and would stand to go and grab his own phone, pressing a kiss to your temple as he moved past, “I’ll see about open times” he assure you and much to your dismay it would seem as if time would fly past till your appointments.

You would be fidgeting as the time came, but your boyfriend would give your hand a strong squeeze to assure you he was right there before you head to the counter to sign in. The wait not too long at least you would both head back once called, though were in separate rooms, and went through the usual steps. As it came time you would eye the nurse and the needle, looking away when she uncapped it, and it was over with a pinch. Waiting a few minutes in case of any sudden reaction you were relieved that nothing like that happened, but you were certain you were not home free. Thanking her of course and taking the paperwork you would be out once allowed, grabbing Izuku’s hand soon as you spotted him.

Of course he would let you tug him out, softening a bit as you seemed to shudder it off once outside, “I am proud of you, y/n” he tell you, meaning it of course, but as you decided to get lunch he could see the truth in what you had explained. About two hours later he could see you trembling for a different reason and would press a hand to your forehead, “Fever, come on let’s get you home” Worry creeping into him he would make sure you got home safely and settled on the couch once in some cool comfy clothing. Sitting next to you he would soon be checking you with the thermometer and was relieved your temperature was not too high. He would have to keep an eye on you though and pressing a soft kiss to your lips did not miss your eyes brightening when he told you he had taken off from work as well, just in case.

Eijiro Kirishima: Stitches

How you had ever met Eijiro was still fairly a mystery to you even, you were a civilian in every sense of the word and merely said hi when he had come through the restaurant you had been working at, at the time with FatGum and Tamaki…that was three years ago now and you really could not be happier. He was a wonderful boyfriend and you were completely in love, in fact you were just going to clean up the now dead flowers he had gotten you last week because you were having a bad day. Unfortunately for you that would be the cause of you needing to go to the emergency room for the first time in your life.

You honestly were not sure what happened, you picked the vase up off the bookshelf in the living room, turned around and took a step when you would find yourself falling. Did you trip over the rug you had to cover the area beneath the coffee table? Did you trip over the table? It really did not matter as next thing you really recall was pushing yourself up and feeling something warm down your arm, getting dizzy as you saw it was blood and realizing the vase had shattered. What should you do? Luckily someone else was able to answer that question for you.

Eijiro had heard the crash as he had just been stepping out of the shower and was to the living room at full speed. Body hardening in case of an intruder as one hand held up the towel around his hips. Spotting you on the ground he would relax his quirk, but was seeing the blood quickly, “Y/n! Hang on babe, I got you” he say, in front of you quickly and you would hear fabric ripping before realizing he was wrapping strips of towel around the wound till the bleeding was staunched. “Eiji?” you murmur, confused as you could feel the pain starting to set in and feeling him kiss your head, “Just keep your arm up to your shoulder, I will be right back” being what he said in return, making sure you did as he said before he was up.

Moving quick as he could he would be dressed and had his wallet, phone and keys in his cargo pockets before he was back to you. Scooping you up as if you were a feather, hurrying to the car and to the hospital. As he drove you would luckily come around more instead of passing out to his relief, “I tripped” you speak first and he glance to you a moment, “It’s alright Y/n, we are almost there” he assure you, reaching to give your knee a squeeze as he pulled into the parking lot. Once parked he would be around to get you, carrying you inside and relieved when you were taken right back to be checked out. The nurses would allow him to stay and he kept close to your good side out of their way as he noticed you starting to tremble and not from cold or pain.

“Eiji, I’m scared” you would admit quietly as a suture kit was brought out and he would soften. Hand turning your cheek to face him as the other kept your good hand, “Hey, like I said, I got you babe. Just focus on me” he murmur, pressing your foreheads together as you would get five neat stitches up your arm, “I am just glad I was home” you hear even quieter, feeling his own hand shaking and you just hold him tighter as you whisper, “My hero”

All Might: Hospital

All For One….that terrible monster of a villain had been taken down, but at what cost? You had been shaking and on the edge of your seat as you watched the news unfold, your boyfriend of course arriving to fight and you could just see how hard it was. He very nearly got killed and you just knew he had used the last of his power to end it all. And for that moment it was over. Your view blocked as the news crews were pushed back and your heart was hammering more in your chest.

You had nearly been going crazy until Grand Torino would call you several hours later to tell you his condition, stable, but battered and where he was. You could visit him any time he assured you and it would make you freeze, the one place you avoided was hospitals. The older man knew this, your boyfriend and all of your friends knew this, but you could feel your soul sparking as he added the words, “Toshinori needs you” before he had to hang and in truth you already knew that in your heart. You needed him too, but could you do it? You had too, for both your sakes.

It wasn’t that you disliked hospitals, no you actually adored them in the fact of just what they did in saving people, your problem was the germs. Your mother, rest her soul, had been extremely germaphobic and if it had not been for your father there to balance things you probably would have ended up the same way. Of course you still had your own issues, you could not have any dirty dishes laying around and you had a cleaning schedule, but it was different things every few days. When you went out you did usually wear a mask over your mouth and nose, having several with different patterns you could wash, but that was about the extent.

Your boyfriend knew it all from the beginning and obviously loved you completely as you had been together six years now. It was just hospitals, and nursing homes too really, they were germ central no matter how clean they were. You hated any time you had to go for a checkup or were so sick you needed medicine, it left you shaking and needing at least two showers, but you had to steel yourself. You knew he would be there a while and damn it you needed to see yourself he was alive! So you would prepare as best you could. Taking an immune system booster with a glass of orange juice you would put on the mask he got you for your birthday and would head there.

By the time you arrived you would be trembling, your damn mind noting every sick person you passed as you headed up to the correct room, and it was only the thought of him waiting that was keeping you from a panic attack. Reaching the door you would knock, a new shudder running through you as you were told to come in, relief. It was his voice 100% and your eyes were tearing as you opened the door. You could see the surprise on his face as you took him in, just staring as you heard his happy shock, “Y/n? Sweetheart….” And he was reaching out his one hand to you, urging you to come to him and you would cross the room, fingers  wrapping around his own as you forget your fear for a moment. Pulling down the mask to press a deep kiss to his lips, just needing to feel him as he did you and almost missing it as he whispered, thank you.

[bubblysweets]

Baby’s First Picture

Baby’s First Picture

Pairing: IzuOcha (DekuOcha)

Rating: K

Words: 1753

Disclaimer: This was supposed to be for IzuOcha week, for First prompt, but I completely spaced it and completely forgot about this one-shot. Lol, as you get to the ending you might notice I ended it super cheesy. 

Being superheroes mean it takes more than half your time include weekends, holidays, and missing appointments. All which Ochaco knew and understood since she was a hero too. However, since this little surprise came up, after a wonderful night with all of their friends and champagne. That night was full of lust, they didn’t make their warm bed the first round. A new obstacle came to Midoriya household.

At first, it was just nausea for two weeks, that Ochaco just tried to ignore. Times where she would look kind of pale. In the beginning, she thought it was her overusing her quirk, but she expanded her time and weight limit from when she was 15 to holding it for a good hour even longer if she doesn’t use her quirk all at once. What made her agency make her days a few days off was when she almost fainted during a battle in a building. If it wasn’t for Eijiro not being nearby to catch her, she probably would have fallen ten feet from the ground.

Next thing she started having been insane headaches and being extremely tired on top of nausea. Izuku started to worry and made her take even more days off to get better and not push herself. She shocked her agency even agreed to his terms since he was on his way to being the number one hero. He even had both of their moms visit her during her days off to check on her while he went to patrol or answer a villain call.

After those two weeks were up was when she finally managed to come up with a plan to convince everyone she was fine. That is was probably the flu. That only last one week. Ochaco started noticing little things were happening to her. Their cat would follow her more than usual. She was starting to be hungry a little more often, the cologne she loves when Izuku wears drove her to disgust, and she sometimes had to take quick breaks when climbing stairs or walking in general. She even slept longer than usual.

It wasn’t until on another day off when her mother stopped by to visit. Ochaco was barely making them brunch when her mother made the comment.

“You and Izuku haven’t been eating a lot of takeout food, right? That shirt looks a bit small on you.”

After a flip of the pancake, she looked down at her shirt. She didn’t really think about it when she threw it on. Now really looking at the shirt, it was a little tight around her breast and stomach, but she could still breathe in it. She wasn’t always the skinniest girl either. Thanks to Yuuei and Izuku she toned up a lot. She was always little thick all around, but Izuku never complained. In fact, he always complimented her. Feeling a bit insulted, she puffed out her cheeks a bit, she responded, “No we haven’t. Deku doesn’t like eating takeout that often.”

Her mother gave her a sly smile while stirring her coffee with a spoon. With that spoon, she used it to point at her daughter and said, “Since it’s not junk food, then that leads to my next conclusion. You’re pregnant.”

Once the p-word came out of her mother’s mouth, the pancake she was putting on the plate fell half on the counter and on the plate. Her face turning a brilliant red as she stared at her mother. No way. She couldn’t be. Could she? Swallowing hard, she regains focus.

“It doesn’t surprise me, my love. After all, you two do live together and are married.” Her mother said using her spoon once again to stir her coffee.

Ochaco stuttered out, “No way, Deku and I are careful!” Adrenaline filled her veins as her words turn to confidence, “And to prove that I’m not, I will go to the store right now a buy test!” Her mother gave her a challenging smirk.

“Alright, I’ll finish the pancakes while you go buy the test.” Her mother said as she stood up.

So in the end, She ended up using one of Izuku’s hats, huge sunglasses, and a hoodie to cover herself from any fans or paparazzi. She didn’t want the fans nor anyone else the wrong idea. Ochaco ended up buying two test and took them once she got home. At first, she felt confident that she wasn’t, but then questions filled her mind. What if she was? How would Deku react? It took four more years after they got together for him to agree to get married. Although she is 22 and him 23 is quite common for married couples to have kids, but kids haven’t really been a topic for them since there was a high possibility that they would not survive during work. Deku did mention he is worried that if they do have kids, he’s afraid of them being quirkless and going through what he did.

The timer she set rang and her mother and her shared a look. Her mother gave her a comforting smile, before picking up the test to read it. Two bright pink lines shined on both tests. Ochaco and her mother were a crying mess for a few hours. Ochaco even cried while stuffing her mouth with the pancakes.

Thankfully her mother stayed until Izuku came home than like a sloth, Ochaco released her hold from her mother to cling to Izuku and got into another crying mess. Poor Izuku looked so confused as he stared at his hoodie covered wife. Her mother quickly gave a farewell to them while not before whispering a few words in Ochaco’s ear. Now he was alone dirty and sweaty, with a crying wife clinging to him to dear life. He managed to get her to the couch, to sit her down so he could shower and try to comfort her.

After his quick shower and threw on a set of pajamas. His wife still softly crying hugging a pillow and petting their cat. He cautiously pulls her towards closer once he sat down. He ran a hand up and down her back an attempt to comfort her. Once she calmed down some, he lifted her face to face him with his other hand and cupped her cheek wiping the tears.

“What’s wrong, Ochaco?” He asked, softly.

Telling him the news turned him into a happy crying mess, in turn, made her a crying mess once again. Speaking of a crying mess.

That’s where this led her to this particular appointment. Izuku hasn’t been able go with her the first few times due to hero work, but this time he was. Here he was finally at an appointment, and nervous as he was with his infamous mutter storm, and anxiously tapping his foot. His mutter storms always interested her, but this time around she actually wanted him to snap out of it before the doctor came in and pay attention to what they were about to see.

Right when she was about to nudge him, a knock on the door managed to spook them both. Ochaco took a breathe and answered the door vocally while Deku shook off his deer in headlights stare. A middle age man with graying hair and doctor’s coat finally came in with a chunky nurse with blonde hair. Both had a smile on their face. The nurse went to work immediately as she set up everything they needed.

The doctor’s voice boomed in the room, “Hello welcome back Midoriya-san. It’s a pleasure to see you again.” The doctor looked at Izuku and struck out his hand for the young man to shake, “And you’re the soon-to-be-father, correct? I’m Dr. Jung.” Izuku felt a shiver run down his back, he still can’t get over the fact that less than 8 months they’ll have a child running around.

“Yes, uh Midoriya Izuku,” he answered taking the doctor’s hand giving a shake. Once they let go, Izuku slipped his hand in Ochaco’s for a comfort.

“I must say it is an honor to treat the wife of the world’s number one hero and symbol of peace.” Dr. Jung spoke while putting rubber gloves on. Izuku stuttered out a thank you while staring at Ochaco stared back just as lovingly. The nurse signaled an okay sign for everything to be ready snapping the couples’ gaze back at the doctor. The nurse handed the doctor a blue tube. Dr. Jung nodded and took the tube from the nurse. ”Let’s get this show on the road. I’m going to put this gel on your wife’s stomach and you’ll see what happens.”

“It’s not going to hurt her, right?” Izuku asked, feeling his muscles tense as he watched the doctor put the gel on Ochaco’s now exposed belly. Ochaco giggles, and shook her head no. She responded, “No it tickles.”

The doctor gave the couple a smile before turning on the small tv looking machine. Then the doctor pressed a white remote size object onto where the gel is spread. A heartbeat filled the room. Izuku looked completely dumbfounded, while Ochaco’s eye started to water.

Izuku stuttered out, “What’s that noise?”

“Your baby’s heartbeat.” Dr. Jung responds, before directing the couples’ attention to the screen, “If you look here, there’s their head and here are their legs.”

Ochaco squeezed Izuku’s hand as they stared at the screen. Actually hearing their baby’s heartbeat brought so much joy to her. Izuku brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. Eyes never leaving the screen before them.

Dr. Jung gave them another smile, “I think it’s time for baby’s first picture.”

For the remaining of the appointment, Dr. Jung went over health expectations for Ochaco. Once the appointment was over, and Ochaco and Izuku were back in the car. Izuku and Ochaco couldn’t help but stare at the picture in his left hand. Their baby. Living proof of their love. The size of a fig.

Ochaco twisted herself on her side in the passenger seat in order to face Izuku who sat in the driver's’ side staring at the photos with a warm smile on his face. She could feel the love radiating off from him. Twiddling her thumbs, she asked him, “So what do you think?”

Izuku finally turned from the picture to Ochaco with the same warm smile, grabbed her hand and said, “I love you. Both of you.”

“We love you too.”

[stephenmccull]

‘Cruel’ Digital Race For Vaccines Leaves Many Seniors Behind

With millions of older Americans eligible for covid-19 vaccines and limited supplies, many continue to describe a frantic and frustrating search to secure a shot, beset by uncertainty and difficulty. 

This story also ran on NPR. It can be republished for free.

The efforts to vaccinate people 65 and older have strained under the enormous demand that has overwhelmed cumbersome, inconsistent scheduling systems.

The struggle represents a shift from the first wave of vaccinations — health care workers in health care settings — which went comparatively smoothly. Now, in most places, elderly people are pitted against one another, competing on an unstable technological playing field for limited shots.

“You can’t have the vaccine distribution be a race between elderly people typing and younger people typing,” said Jeremy Novich, a clinical psychologist in New York City who has begun a group to help people navigate the technology to get appointments. “That’s not a race. That’s just cruel.”

While the demand is an encouraging sign of public trust in the vaccines, the challenges facing seniors also speak to the country’s fragmented approach, which has left many confused and enlisting family members to hunt down appointments. 

“It’s just maddening,” said Bill Walsh, with AARP. “It should be a smooth pathway from signing up to getting the vaccine, and that’s just not what we’re seeing so far.” 

Glitchy websites, jammed phone lines and long lines outside clinics have become commonplace as states expand who’s eligible — sometimes triggering a mad dash for shots that can sound more like trying to score a ticket for a music festival than obtaining a lifesaving vaccine. 

After being inundated, some public health departments are trying to hire more staff members to handle their vaccination hotlines and specifically target seniors who may not be able to navigate a complicated online sign-up process.  

“Just posting a website and urging people to go there is not a recipe for success,” said Walsh. 

‘Terribly Competitive’ 

Like many other seniors, Colleen Brooks, 85, had trouble sorting through the myriad online resources about how to find the vaccine where she lives, on Vashon Island in the Puget Sound near Seattle.

“It was an overwhelming amount of information,” she said. “I knew it was here someplace, but it wasn’t easy to find out how to get it.”

After making calls, Brooks eventually got a tip from a friend who had spotted the vaccines being unloaded at their town pharmacy. When she dropped by her health clinic to inquire about how to sign up, it happened they were giving out shots that same day.  

“That was totally serendipitous for me, but I actually personally know several seniors who just kind of gave up,” said Brooks. 

Finding out how to get a vaccine appointment was more straightforward for Gerald Kahn, 76, who lives in Madison, Connecticut. 

Kahn got an email notice from the state’s vaccine registration system telling him to make an appointment, but he ran into problems at the very end of the sign-up process. 

“As much as I would pound my finger on the face of my iPad, it didn’t do me any good,” he said.

So Kahn did what many have and called a younger family member, who was able to help him finish signing up. 

“I think there are a lot of people my age, maybe the preponderance, who can only go so far into the internet, and then we’re not only stymied but also frustrated,” he said. 

When Helen Francke, 92, logged on for a vaccine at the designated time, she discovered the spots available in Washington, D.C., filled up almost instantaneously. 

“It was evident that I was much too slow,” she said. “It’s terribly competitive and clearly favors those with advanced computer skills.” 

The next week, Francke tried calling and going online — this time with the help of her neighbors — without success.

“If I had had to depend on the D.C. vaccination website and telephone, I’d still be anxious and unsuccessful,” said Francke, who got a shot only after finding information on a neighborhood discussion group that directed her to a hospital. 

In Arizona, Karen Davis, 80, ended up on a roundabout quest through state and hospital websites with no clear sense of how to actually book an appointment. 

“I kept trying to do it and kind of banged my head against the wall too many times,” she said. 

Davis, a retired nurse, called her doctor and the pharmacy and then eventually turned to a younger relative, who managed to book a 5 a.m. appointment at a mass vaccination site. 

“I’m sure they did not expect older people to be able to do this,” she said. 

Miguel Lerma, who lives in Phoenix, said his 69-year-old mother has been unsuccessful in finding a shot. 

“She’s not an English speaker and doesn’t know technology well, and that’s how everything is being done,” said Lerma, 31. 

Lerma said it’s especially painful to watch his mother struggle to get the vaccine — because he lost his father to covid last year. 

“She’s mourning not only for my dad, but she’s also suffering as an adult now because she depended on him for certain tasks,” Lerma said. “He would’ve handled all this.” 

‘Desperate’ Seniors Look for Help  

Philip Bretsky, a primary care doctor in Southern California, said his older patients would typically call him or visit a pharmacy for vaccines like the annual flu shot, rather than rely on novel online scheduling systems. 

“That’s not how 85-year-olds have interacted with the health care system, so it’s a complete disconnect,” he said. “These folks are basically just investing a lot of time and not getting anything out of it.” 

California’s recent decision to change its vaccination plan and open it up to those over 65 only adds to the confusion. 

Bretsky said his patients are being told to call their doctor for information, but he isn’t even sure when his office, which is authorized to give the vaccines, will receive any. 

“Patients in this age group want to know that they’re at least being heard or somebody is thinking about the challenges they have,” he said. 

There are some local efforts to make that happen.  

In the village of Los Lunas, New Mexico, public health workers held an in-person sign-up event for seniors who needed assistance or simply a device connected to the internet. 

A Florida senior center recently held a vaccination registration event and a clinic specifically for people over 80 who might not have a computer. 

Novich, the clinical psychologist in New York, teamed up with a few other people to create an informal help service for older adults. It began as a small endeavor, advertised through a few synagogues and his Facebook page. They’ve now helped more than 100 people get shots.  

“We have a huge number of requests that are just piling up,” said Novich. 

“People are really desperate and they’re also confused because nobody has actually explained to them when they are expected to get vaccinated. … It’s a big mess.” 

The ongoing shortage of vaccines has led Novich to halt the service for now. 

This story is part of a partnership that includes NPR and KHN.

Kaiser Health News (KHN) is a national health policy news service. It is an editorially independent program of the Henry J. Kaiser Family Foundation which is not affiliated with Kaiser Permanente.

USE OUR CONTENT

This story can be republished for free (details).

‘Cruel’ Digital Race For Vaccines Leaves Many Seniors Behind published first on https://smartdrinkingweb.weebly.com/

[gordonwilliamsweb]

‘Cruel’ Digital Race For Vaccines Leaves Many Seniors Behind

With millions of older Americans eligible for covid-19 vaccines and limited supplies, many continue to describe a frantic and frustrating search to secure a shot, beset by uncertainty and difficulty. 

This story also ran on NPR. It can be republished for free.

The efforts to vaccinate people 65 and older have strained under the enormous demand that has overwhelmed cumbersome, inconsistent scheduling systems.

The struggle represents a shift from the first wave of vaccinations — health care workers in health care settings — which went comparatively smoothly. Now, in most places, elderly people are pitted against one another, competing on an unstable technological playing field for limited shots.

“You can’t have the vaccine distribution be a race between elderly people typing and younger people typing,” said Jeremy Novich, a clinical psychologist in New York City who has begun a group to help people navigate the technology to get appointments. “That’s not a race. That’s just cruel.”

While the demand is an encouraging sign of public trust in the vaccines, the challenges facing seniors also speak to the country’s fragmented approach, which has left many confused and enlisting family members to hunt down appointments. 

“It’s just maddening,” said Bill Walsh, with AARP. “It should be a smooth pathway from signing up to getting the vaccine, and that’s just not what we’re seeing so far.” 

Glitchy websites, jammed phone lines and long lines outside clinics have become commonplace as states expand who’s eligible — sometimes triggering a mad dash for shots that can sound more like trying to score a ticket for a music festival than obtaining a lifesaving vaccine. 

After being inundated, some public health departments are trying to hire more staff members to handle their vaccination hotlines and specifically target seniors who may not be able to navigate a complicated online sign-up process.  

“Just posting a website and urging people to go there is not a recipe for success,” said Walsh. 

‘Terribly Competitive’ 

Like many other seniors, Colleen Brooks, 85, had trouble sorting through the myriad online resources about how to find the vaccine where she lives, on Vashon Island in the Puget Sound near Seattle.

“It was an overwhelming amount of information,” she said. “I knew it was here someplace, but it wasn’t easy to find out how to get it.”

After making calls, Brooks eventually got a tip from a friend who had spotted the vaccines being unloaded at their town pharmacy. When she dropped by her health clinic to inquire about how to sign up, it happened they were giving out shots that same day.  

“That was totally serendipitous for me, but I actually personally know several seniors who just kind of gave up,” said Brooks. 

Finding out how to get a vaccine appointment was more straightforward for Gerald Kahn, 76, who lives in Madison, Connecticut. 

Kahn got an email notice from the state’s vaccine registration system telling him to make an appointment, but he ran into problems at the very end of the sign-up process. 

“As much as I would pound my finger on the face of my iPad, it didn’t do me any good,” he said.

So Kahn did what many have and called a younger family member, who was able to help him finish signing up. 

“I think there are a lot of people my age, maybe the preponderance, who can only go so far into the internet, and then we’re not only stymied but also frustrated,” he said. 

When Helen Francke, 92, logged on for a vaccine at the designated time, she discovered the spots available in Washington, D.C., filled up almost instantaneously. 

“It was evident that I was much too slow,” she said. “It’s terribly competitive and clearly favors those with advanced computer skills.” 

The next week, Francke tried calling and going online — this time with the help of her neighbors — without success.

“If I had had to depend on the D.C. vaccination website and telephone, I’d still be anxious and unsuccessful,” said Francke, who got a shot only after finding information on a neighborhood discussion group that directed her to a hospital. 

In Arizona, Karen Davis, 80, ended up on a roundabout quest through state and hospital websites with no clear sense of how to actually book an appointment. 

“I kept trying to do it and kind of banged my head against the wall too many times,” she said. 

Davis, a retired nurse, called her doctor and the pharmacy and then eventually turned to a younger relative, who managed to book a 5 a.m. appointment at a mass vaccination site. 

“I’m sure they did not expect older people to be able to do this,” she said. 

Miguel Lerma, who lives in Phoenix, said his 69-year-old mother has been unsuccessful in finding a shot. 

“She’s not an English speaker and doesn’t know technology well, and that’s how everything is being done,” said Lerma, 31. 

Lerma said it’s especially painful to watch his mother struggle to get the vaccine — because he lost his father to covid last year. 

“She’s mourning not only for my dad, but she’s also suffering as an adult now because she depended on him for certain tasks,” Lerma said. “He would’ve handled all this.” 

‘Desperate’ Seniors Look for Help  

Philip Bretsky, a primary care doctor in Southern California, said his older patients would typically call him or visit a pharmacy for vaccines like the annual flu shot, rather than rely on novel online scheduling systems. 

“That’s not how 85-year-olds have interacted with the health care system, so it’s a complete disconnect,” he said. “These folks are basically just investing a lot of time and not getting anything out of it.” 

California’s recent decision to change its vaccination plan and open it up to those over 65 only adds to the confusion. 

Bretsky said his patients are being told to call their doctor for information, but he isn’t even sure when his office, which is authorized to give the vaccines, will receive any. 

“Patients in this age group want to know that they’re at least being heard or somebody is thinking about the challenges they have,” he said. 

There are some local efforts to make that happen.  

In the village of Los Lunas, New Mexico, public health workers held an in-person sign-up event for seniors who needed assistance or simply a device connected to the internet. 

A Florida senior center recently held a vaccination registration event and a clinic specifically for people over 80 who might not have a computer. 

Novich, the clinical psychologist in New York, teamed up with a few other people to create an informal help service for older adults. It began as a small endeavor, advertised through a few synagogues and his Facebook page. They’ve now helped more than 100 people get shots.  

“We have a huge number of requests that are just piling up,” said Novich. 

“People are really desperate and they’re also confused because nobody has actually explained to them when they are expected to get vaccinated. … It’s a big mess.” 

The ongoing shortage of vaccines has led Novich to halt the service for now. 

This story is part of a partnership that includes NPR and KHN.

Kaiser Health News (KHN) is a national health policy news service. It is an editorially independent program of the Henry J. Kaiser Family Foundation which is not affiliated with Kaiser Permanente.

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This story can be republished for free (details).

‘Cruel’ Digital Race For Vaccines Leaves Many Seniors Behind published first on https://nootropicspowdersupplier.tumblr.com/

[raywritesthings]

If They Knew Sweet Little You 1/7

My Writing Fandom: Doctor Who Characters: Donna Noble, Wilfred Mott, Sylvia Noble, Tenth Doctor Pairing: Doctor/Donna Summary: Donna's dull, regular life is turned upside-down thanks to an incident from the past she can no longer remember. AO3 link  

Two months. It had been just over two months since Donna had woken up on her bed in her clothes to learn the world had gone mad talking about planets in the sky. Well, of course they were in the sky. Where else were they supposed to be? On land?

It had only taken a few days for people to settle down and things to go back to normal. But Donna found she couldn’t settle as easily.

She wasn’t working and didn’t think she had been for a while, so there was nothing to do during the day. Her friends texted her, but it took until Veena mentioned she’d told them all she was busy lately for her to realize they hadn’t been inviting her out, so she had nothing to do at night. That probably explained why her bank account still looked decent despite her having no job.

Yet every time Donna sat down at her laptop to check her email or the temp agency, she found her attention wandering, and she never actually got around to it. The same with when she would try to muster up to energy to call up her friends and schedule something. She didn’t know what it was, but neither of those things seemed to hold the same appeal they once did.

Everything just felt off somehow. She couldn’t put a finger on it or even try to explain it, but it left her feeling not very good. And then sort of queasy. And then that queasiness had her hauling herself out of bed one morning to stick her head in the toilet and empty her stomach.

God, what had she eaten last night? Donna drank a lot of water and nibbled on some crackers, then went on a long walk around the neighborhood to avoid her mum’s dinner. She didn’t want a repeat of that morning, that was for sure.

But it happened again the next morning anyway. Donna crawled back under the covers and pulled them up over her head, trying to ignore the stale taste in her mouth or the slight pain in her throat.

Figured. She could sit in offices year round perfectly healthy while people sneezed and hacked up who knew what germs all around her, but as soon as she took a bit of time for herself that’s when it all caught up. Her mum would probably be on her about her loafing in no time. She’d have to start searching for a new position in earnest now.

That was, once she’d gotten over this flu or whatever it was.

—-

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“I assure you this is no joke, Donna. The test was conclusive. You’re pregnant.”

Donna Noble gaped at old Doctor Simmons. Her family had been seeing him for ages, and a part of her wondered if it was high time he thought about retirement because he was obviously completely senile.

“I’m what?”

“Pregnant. I’d say about two months along.”

Donna had half a mind to ask if he’d been put up to this. “Can I get a second opinion?”

“You can, but they’ll tell you the same thing I just did.”

“Then I’ll get a third or a fourth or however many it takes! Doctor Simmons, you don’t understand,” she said. “Me being pregnant, that’s — well it’s just not possible.”

Doctor Simmons shook his head with a knowing smile. “Now, you don’t need to put up any pretense, Donna. I’m not here to judge the choices my patients make, only to help them be as healthy as possible while making them.”

“No, but I didn’t make this choice.”

“Well, accidents happen,” he remarked with a shrug. “If you’re worried about how the father will take it, I’d be perfectly happy to meet with you both. I’ll even help you with your mother, if you like.”

“No,” said Donna again, more forcefully this time. “You don’t understand. There is no father. I haven’t had sex in — well, long enough to not be pregnant now! I don’t even remember having an ‘accident’!”

The smile slipped from his face. “You don’t?”

Donna shook her head. “No.”

There was a lot Donna didn’t really remember, truthfully, of which she might have explained to Doctor Simmons if he hadn’t blindsided her with this. Like what she’d done for her birthday this year or why Lance had left her and why she’d gone off to Egypt straight after.

She got headaches now, too, just sometimes. There didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason to them; she might be watching bees buzz around the flowers in the garden or children at play in the park or pass a man on the street with really nice brown eyes — and then it hit, and she’d be useless all the rest of the day.

Donna couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken a temp position, either, but rather than nag her about that her mother had found her emptying her stomach into the toilet three mornings ago and suggested she go see the doctor. Well, her specific words had been, “Go and see Simmons. It’s been ages since your last appointment.” Her mum avoided the word doctor like the plague lately, come to think of it.

So she’d gone and done her best to answer all the questions. Yes, she’d been eating properly. No, she didn’t really exercise much — imagine her shock when the nurse had told her she’d dropped half a stone! Yes, she was getting enough sleep. No, she couldn’t recall when her last cycle had started or ended.

Donna had wondered if that was it; her body clock had timed out early, and she’d missed her chance. That’d be just her luck. But here it turned out to be a different story entirely, and one that could only be fantasy!

Doctor Simmons was watching her now and seemed to be considering very carefully what to say next. “If you truly have no recollection of the intercourse that could have led to conception, it might be wise to run some additional tests. For your health.”

“Oh, my God.” Donna pressed both hands to her temples. “This can’t be happening.” What had she done, had a drunken shag in the bathroom of some pub? She couldn’t even remember the last time she’d chatted a stranger up much less slept with one. “What am I gonna do?”

“Alright, let’s not panic. I’m going to send you home with some antenatal vitamins to start taking. You come back in at the end of the week. We’ll run those tests and see what we find, if anything.” He reached out and patted her knee. “Motherhood is an exciting journey, Donna — for some more so than others.”

Motherhood. She was going to be a mum. She really was. And she had no idea how she’d managed it.

Neither did Veena or Susie Mair or even Nerys when she phoned them each in turn. Not that she told them what it was about of course.

“Veena, when’s the last time we’ve been out for drinks? About two months ago?”

“Nah, it’s been way longer,” said her friend on the other end of the line. “You were out sight-seeing or something a couple months back, weren’t you? We’ll have to go out now, you can tell me all about it.”

“Er, yeah, maybe some other time.” Donna got off the phone without making any commitments. Wasn’t like she could go out for drinks any time soon anyway!

No one she talked to could confirm any type of funny business, not even when she went round to all the usual spots. Mostly they just kept saying it was good to see her again.

Oh God, had she gone off somewhere else and been drugged and knocked up?

With nothing to tell Doctor Simmons, she nevertheless needed to make sure it wasn’t just a baby she’d been stuck with.

“Mum, I need the car. Going in to see the doctor — Doctor Simmons, I mean,” she felt the strangest need to clarify.

“What are you going back for so soon?” Her mother asked from the kitchen. “There’s not something wrong, is there?”

“No,” Donna lied. “Just a follow-up.”

As she sat in traffic, she wondered not for the first time what she was going to do. There was only so long she could keep this from her family. Donna cringed just picturing the disappointment on her mother’s face and the ‘I warned you’ speech that was sure to follow. Gramps would be worried, she supposed, but he’d at least be kind about it. At the moment, Donna didn’t have the energy to try and imagine how anyone else would take it. As if she wasn’t already the biggest failure in Chiswick.

A week after the tests, Donna went back in again. “I have some good news,” Doctor Simmons told her. “You’re clean. You haven’t contracted anything.”

“Yeah, except a baby,” Donna remarked.

He didn’t laugh. “Yes, well, Donna...I think it is best that we discuss your options going forward. Being that this pregnancy appears to be the result of a non-consensual sexual encounter —”

“I’m keeping it,” said Donna before he could finish. “I don’t care how it happened — I mean, I care but I- I’ve always wanted to be a mum. And this is probably the best shot I’ve got.”

It wasn’t the worst way it could have happened. At least she hadn’t resorted to a turkey baster like Nerys. Was she upset her child wasn’t going to have a father? Yes. Did she worry how that would affect it growing up? Absolutely. But if she just had a chance to give her baby all the love and support she’d missed out on in life, wouldn’t it be enough? Wouldn’t it make all this worth it?

Doctor Simmons was favoring her with a pitying look, but all he said was, “If that is your choice, then you have my full support.”

“Yeah, speaking of, if you see my mum or Gramps around, would you mind not mentioning this? I haven’t figured out how to tell them yet.”

“Of course. If you need any assistance in that regard, please let me know.”

She left Doctor Simmons’ office with a referral to an OBGYN and a problem to consider: how was she going to break the news to her family?

Briefly, Donna entertained the idea of taking up a new temp job across town, renting out a cheap flat, and avoiding her mother for the rest of her natural life. But that wouldn’t stop her hearing it from someone else. And how would she make it on her own as a single mum with work and a baby? She needed her family, if they’d still have her once they found out.

So it was time to fess up. She couldn’t go on making up excuses for appointments and hiding the antenatal vitamins under her pillow.

If she was lucky, her grandad would be the only one home when she got back, and she could run it by him first. Gauge a reaction.

This would be so much easier if she just knew who’d gotten her this way. It wasn’t likely they’d end up a family together if they’d seemingly only had that one forgotten encounter, but at least she’d have options in case her mum kicked her out of the house tonight!

—

Wilfred Mott was worried about his granddaughter. But he’d been that way ever since she came home. Was brought home.

He knew it had been the only way to save her life, and for that he’d always be thankful. But Wilf couldn’t help wishing there was something else the Doctor could do for their girl so she’d have her memories back. That wonderful alien was so clever.

Only now he was gone for Donna’s safety, and that was the worst bit. No man had ever treated Donna as well as the Doctor had. She’d practically been glowing the last few times they’d come round the house together, and Wilf didn’t think he could recall her being happier, not even in the run-up to that wedding with that Lance fellow or whichever his name was. He missed watching the two of them run about stopping alien invasions, making each other laugh.

He thought Donna missed the Doctor, too, in her own way. She came up on the hill with him infrequently, staring up at the stars she’d lost and looking so sad. Sometimes she just sat at a window, mind far away with her arms wrapped around her middle as if in a hug.

She’d been practically listless the last couple months. The occasional headache here or there, but they’d gotten a handle for the most part on what triggered them. When Sylvia had found her being sick in the bathroom, however, she’d badgered Donna into a checkup.

“What if she caught some disease out there, dad?” His daughter had fretted.

“Oh, Sylvia, I’m sure it’s alright.” After all, it had been over two months; surely there would have been a sign before now?

Donna had come home from the appointment just as quiet and withdrawn as before but saying that nothing was wrong. Then she went back for a second appointment, and a third.

“She’ll tell us when she’s ready,” he said to an increasingly panicked Sylvia, though he couldn’t help hoping Donna would feel ready soon.

That afternoon, he was doing some of the washing up before dinner to make room in the kitchen for Sylvia. The front door opened and shut, and when no one called out he thought he could guess which of his girls had gotten back first. “Donna? That you, sweetheart?”

“Yeah.” A couple moments later she was shuffling into the room and dropping into a chair at the table. “Where’s mum?”

“Still out. Won’t be back for another hour at least.” Wilf turned off the faucet and reached for a towel to dry his hands. When he turned around, Donna had hers folded on her lap and was biting her lip. “Something the matter?”

She looked up at him. “Gramps, there’s something I’ve got to tell you. And you’re gonna have some questions, but I honestly don’t know the answers to them, so I’m sorry.” She looked away again. “God, you’re gonna be so ashamed of me.”

“Ashamed of you?” He echoed. “Never.” She cracked just the slightest smile at that. He crossed the room and took a seat as well. “I’m sure it can’t be all bad. What is it?”

Donna hesitated. “Well, I — I’m pregnant.”

Wilf nearly fell out of his chair. “Pregnant?”

She shushed him despite them being the only two home. “Yes. Getting closer to three months now.”

“Oh. Oh dear.” He looked her up and down. She wasn’t showing yet, but he supposed she wouldn’t be. Of all the things he’d been worried about! “But- but when? How?”

“That’s the thing. I really don’t know. And it’s not because I can’t decide whose it is.” She shrugged with a tired, “There’s just no one.”

Wilfred didn’t know what to say. “You’re sure?”

Donna groaned and put her head in her hands. “Please, Gramps, this is already embarrassing enough without going over the details of my sexual history with you.”

He supposed she had a point. “What’re you gonna tell your mother?”

“I dunno. I could let her carry on thinking I was just getting fatter for a while, couldn’t I?”

“Oh, Donna.”

Donna looked up, a real fear in her eyes. “She’s gonna kill me for this, Gramps. We both know it.”

“She wouldn’t.” He wished his protest sounded more sincere.

Dinner that night started off an uncomfortable affair. On one side was Sylvia, forcing herself to keep from asking Donna about the latest doctor’s appointment; on the other was Donna, so very reluctant to break the news.

After fifteen minutes of stilted conversation ranging from the topics of the weather to what Suzette had bought at the shops that day, enough was enough. “Sylvia, love, Donna’s got something she wants to say.” He gave his granddaughter an encouraging smile and watched her draw in a deep breath.

“Mum, the reason I’ve been going in for all these appointments — well, I’m not sick, if that’s what you were worried about.” She paused, and Wilf reached across the table to take her hand. He felt Donna squeeze it tightly once before saying, “I’m pregnant.”

Sylvia’s fork dropped onto her plate with a clatter. “Pregnant? Since when? How?”

“Going on three months, and I don’t know. Look, I only found out myself the beginning of this month.”

“Who’s the father?”

“I don’t know,” Donna repeated.

“Well, how can you not know —”

“Because I don’t remember it happening!” Donna stood with such force her chair was knocked over. “I haven’t been seeing anyone. None of the girls have had anything to tell me, either, so I guess you can call me the bloody Virgin Mary because this baby didn’t get here any other way!”

“You, a virgin? That’s the day I’ll believe in miracles,” Sylvia scoffed.

“Oh, Sylvia, don’t,” Wilf began.

“No, it’s fine,” said Donna. “I knew you being weirdly nice to me lately was just a fluke.” She glared at her mother. “Go ahead, tell me you told me so. Tell me this is all my fault. I know it is, but it’ll make you feel better, won’t it?”

Sylvia looked between them both, eyes wide and face incredibly pale. “Donna, it’s not — you’re important to me, and I just don’t want to see —”

“Yeah, well, if you don’t want to see it, I’ll just pack and be off in the morning.”

Wilfred watched her storm upstairs in dismay, then turned back to Sylvia.

“Well, am I supposed to pretend to be pleased?” His daughter defended before he could even speak. “She’s got no job, no prospects.”

“I know all that. But, love, you can’t blame her for it. She can’t remember.” He stressed the last two words, hoping it conveyed their significance.

Sylvia looked at him sharply. “You think it happened while she was off — out there?”

He shrugged. “It’s the only explanation that makes any sense. Look, she’s been going spare trying to figure it out herself, and she never will. Don’t you think we ought to do all we can to help her instead of making it worse?”

Abruptly, his daughter burst into tears.

Wilf stood and hurried around the table to place his arms around her. “Here now, what’s this?”

“You said she went to other planets and — and met creatures. I mean what if it’s alien, dad?”

“It might not be alien. Could just be someone she met in the future, or the past,” he reasoned.

“Oh, wonderful,” his daughter said. “Good luck for her getting child support, then!”

“She’s got support. She’s got us.”

“She’s got you, you mean.” Sylvia shrugged him off and kept her gaze on the table. “He was right. I don’t say it often enough. Now she doesn’t believe me. My own daughter.” Her eyes squeezed shut. “How did I let that happen?”

Wilfred hung his head. It really wasn’t just her fault. He’d said this or that, tried to intervene, but he could’ve done more; Lord knew Geoffrey had tried, but he just hadn’t had the same authority as his wife. He supposed this day had always been coming, when the damage Sylvia had done finally came home to roost. There was little he could say to deny it was there.

So he placed his hand back on her shoulder. “You just didn’t know how not to be hard on her, that’s all. You knew exactly how you wanted her to grow up, and when she didn’t follow that plan you felt like you’d failed. But you haven’t, Sylvia, you haven’t,” he continued when she choked on a sob. “Why, Donna’s the most important woman in the universe. That’s the daughter you raised. And if she’s gonna be a mum, well, she’s gonna need her own mum now more than ever.”

His daughter had calmed mostly, cries subsiding to sniffles.

“Now, I’ll go and check on her, and you get yourself cleaned up. I’ll put the kettle on for you.” Despite his belief in the best of both his girls, he didn’t think a second conversation between them in one night would go so well with emotions running so high.

Wilf passed through the kitchen to turn on the kettle, then padded up the stairs and down the hall to Donna’s door, which was slightly ajar. Inside, he could hear her crying. He knocked lightly. “Donna?”

The crying cut off with a gasp. A moment later, she called out in a thick voice, “Come in!”

He pushed the door open the rest of the way and walked into the darkened room. She was sitting on the bed, a suitcase half-packed beside her. On her lap was —

“A hat box, I know. Don’t know why I thought I was gonna need one of those.” Her attempt at a smile wavered badly, and she raised a hand to wipe at teary eyes. Wilf stepped forward with his handkerchief held out.

She took it with a soft, “Thanks.”

“That’s alright. Donna, you know your mother doesn’t want you to leave. She just, well, she worries about you, in her own way.”

“I could do with her worrying less, then.” She set the hat box aside with a heavy sigh, then made room for him next to her on the bed. “I’m not going, really. Haven’t anywhere to go.”

Yes, she did, Wilf wanted to say. To the stars. But she couldn’t, and for more reasons than the baby.

“Have you started thinking about names?” He asked instead.

“I’ve only had just about a month,” Donna reminded him. Nevertheless, she humored him. “Let’s see. Wilfred for a boy.”

He chuckled. “Oh no, I know it’s old fashioned.”

“Middle name, then. And for a girl...I don’t know.” Her face took on that faraway look again. “Maybe Jenny. I feel like Jenny would be a good name for a daughter.”

“Jenny Noble,” he said, and he was glad to see Donna come back to herself. She smiled at him, her hand resting over her stomach.

“It’s in the running.”

“You don’t know how proud I am of you,” he told her. Donna scoffed, but he carried right on. “It’s the hardest thing, being a parent, and here you are taking it on on your own.”

“Yeah, I’ve been doing a real bang-up job of it, too.”

“Well, you’ll only get better with time,” he insisted.

Eyes red but dry, she passed him back his handkerchief, which he tucked away.

“Should we get you unpacked?”

“Oh, I’ll just leave it for the morning,” she said. “Exhausted myself earlier with all that.”

“I’ll let you get to bed, then.” He stood and made his way to the door.

“Gramps?” Donna’s call had him pausing, and he turned back around. “Thanks.”

He raised a hand to dismiss it. “No thanks necessary.”

She smiled. “Love you.”

“Love you.” Wilf stepped out into the hall and closed the door. He went back down to the kitchen to find Sylvia must have taken her tea up to bed with her. For the better, really; it was getting late, and he still had one more thing to do. One more person to take care of, since Donna couldn’t anymore.

Wilf pulled on his coat and hiked up the hill. He got out his telescope and set it up, then settled in his chair. Plenty of stars, and even some planets, but no blue box. The same as usual. Wilf wondered if they would ever see it again.

“I hope you’re alright out there. We’re all fine, even if Donna’s been through a bit of a shock. Suppose you wouldn’t know anything about that, though, or you would’ve said.”

It didn’t seem to be affecting her so far as the memories and all that went. She was still safe from burning up, which was the best they could ask for. He wished as ever, of course, that she could simply have her memories back and be fine. It would at least give her less cause for shame over this whole pregnancy.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing. In a way, the child was something from those wonderful travels she’d had that she could keep, even if she didn’t realize it.

Wilfred kept up his watch for a while longer, then at last put his things away. He straightened up and snapped off a salute to the stars.

“Goodnight, Doctor. Maybe the next one, eh?”

[isadorator]

everything’s better with beanie babies

this silly au was something i came up with in convo with @crispypata last year, and it holds really fond memories. thanks to a quick beta from @clairelutra, i was able to finish this fic in time for crispy’s bday today!!!! 🎂

thank you, crispy, for being such a great friend, for enabling my crazy ideas and comforting me and helping me feel a little bit of happiness every day because you let me into your world. i can’t imagine what the last few years of my life would have been like without you there ♥♥♥ SO ENJOY SOME NONSENSE AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!! \o/ (also on ao3)

In which the Agrestes are equally terrible at hiding secret identities while under pressure.

---

Gabriel shouldered open the door of the café, quickly getting into line and just as quickly tuning out his surroundings to focus on his sketchbook.

He scribbled out the third hoodie he’d drawn today and sighed. His professor for Advanced Fashion Design would never accept something so casual for his end-of-term project. It needed be something…something—

“Perfect,” Gabriel muttered as he looked up from the page, only to freeze when he met amused, green eyes.

“You’re bold this morning,” the pretty barista teased. “Double espresso again?”

Even if this small café was the closest one to his classes, he came in here entirely too often if the baristas were memorizing his orders. Especially this one.

This barista was an impressionist vision, with her soft blonde hair pulled into a loose bun and her smile crinkling her eyes, lending charm to her heart-shaped face. If Gabriel was less occupied with his course load and interning at his father’s company, he may have felt inclined to ask her to model for him.

(No matter what Duusu said, it was not a crush. His was a purely aesthetic appreciation of her beauty, and he would absolutely not allow himself to nurse such childish affections. It was unthinkable.)

The silence stretched, and the barista held back a laugh as Gabriel felt his face heat against his will.

(He did not have a crush.)

“Yes, thank you,” said Gabriel, trying to get a hold of himself. “Please add a croissant to the order, Mme…” His eyes darted down to her name tag. Curiously, she never wore the same one twice. Today, she hadn’t even bothered putting one on, opting instead for a pin with a sideways eight on it. “…Infinity?”

The newly dubbed Mme Infinity grinned, revealing her bunny teeth. “That’ll be €4, monsieur.”

Gabriel reached into his blazer for his wallet, giving himself time to gather his wits—not that he needed it, he was perfectly capable of ordering breakfast without being distracted—

The peacock kwami he was holding out instead of his wallet begged to differ.

Mme Infinity stared at the extremely stiff Duusu, mouth parting as she pointed at the kwami he was still showing her. “That’s—!”

“A Beanie Baby,” interrupted Gabriel, swiftly tucking Duusu back into his blazer. He kept his face neutral as he thought faster than he ever had in his entire life. “Quite popular in America right now, I understand. I’ve been studying them for class.” That was too many details, you’re making this lie seem less believable. Gabriel pulled out his wallet, mentally stilling his shaking fingers. “My apologies, €5 you said?”

Her eyes darted from his blazer to his face to his wallet and then back to his face. She slowly put down her hand and swallowed, a pink flush appearing on her cheeks.

Suddenly, Gabriel found it very hard to concentrate.

“€4,” she answered quietly, taking the euro note he held out to her and opening the till. “Christophe, a double espresso please!”

The dreadlocked barista (who Gabriel now realized had been watching the entire exchange) flashed him a cheeky grin and settled into making his espresso.

All too soon, Gabriel was tucking away his change and croissant as Mme Infinity presented him with his drink. She seemed to have recovered, shooting him a wink that twisted his insides with—absolutely nothing.

“Don’t forget your receipt,” she said with a sly smile.

Later, when Gabriel settled down into a quiet corner of the library with his breakfast and sketch book, Duusu popped out of his blazer with a squinty-eyed pout.

“I’m not sure whether to laugh or cry,” said the kwami. “A Beanie Baby? Really?”

“Hush,” said Gabriel. “I need to finish this design before tomorrow.”

“You’ll be fine, you’ll come up with something brilliant at the last minute like you always do,” said Duusu, waving his stub dismissively.

Gabriel wasn’t sure if he should be pleased with the compliment, back-handed as it was.

“More importantly, have you checked your receipt?” Duusu demanded, flying into Gabriel’s face. His kwami’s feathered tail was quivering with excitement. “Ooooooh, what if it’s a love letter?!”

Scoffing as he reached into his pocket for the slip of paper, Gabriel shot his kwami a withering look. “As if that barista would bother with such silly—”

Gabriel froze. When he held up the receipt for Duusu, he saw the back of it for the first time.

There, in purple ink, was a woman’s name, a number, and the message ‘Call me, handsome!’ punctuated with a heart-winged butterfly.

It was a miracle that Duusu’s squeal of delight didn’t get them kicked out.

---

Years later, Gabriel closed the safe door, locking away the Peacock Miraculous again. Gently pushing his wife’s painting back over the safe, Gabriel sat at his desk and went through his company’s finances until his appointment arrived.

The knock on his office door came quickly, and Gabriel almost asked Nathalie to open it before remembering she called in sick. Sighing through his nose, he stood and walked over to the door, swinging it open quickly.

His son was fidgeting outside, jumping when Gabriel appeared. “F-Father! Hi!”

“Adrien,” said Gabriel, clasping his hands behind his back. He walked back to his desk, fully expecting Adrien to follow. “Do you know why I called you here today?”

As he sat in his chair, Gabriel saw Adrien tighten his grip on his school bag.

“Did…you want to go out for dinner? Together?” his son guessed, looking hopeful.

“Of course not, we have a perfectly good chef,” said Gabriel. As Adrien’s smile fell, Gabriel clasped his hands in front of him. “No, we’re here to talk about your education.”

“My education?” Adrien echoed.

“Yes. Normally, Nathalie would be handling this, but as she’s come down with the flu…” Gabriel trailed off and then extended his hand, waiting. “I believe report cards were handed out today.”

Adrien jolted before looking up at Gabriel with wide eyes.

“O-of course! Let me just—” Adrien paused to tear open his bag and rummage inside before pulling out a kwami. “Here! I hope—”

A black kwami with cat ears. One held in Adrien’s hand, which coincidentally bore a silver ring shaped exactly the same as the Black Cat Miraculous.

There were no words to describe how furious Gabriel was—at himself for missing what were now painfully obvious clues, at Adrien for daring to defy his father and put himself in more danger than he could possibly imagine, at his staff for not noticing that their charge was a superhero—

“U-uh, this, um—it’s uh,” Adrien began, no doubt trying to come up with an excuse as to why he had a kwami.

Except he wouldn’t know that Gabriel knew about kwami. There was still a way to salvage this situation until Gabriel could take a moment to incorporate this new information into his plans.

(And he ignored the look of panic and shock on his son’s face that reminded him of golden sunlight in a café, so many years ago.)

(…Now there was an idea.)

“A Beanie Baby,” Gabriel reasoned for his son, his face carefully blank. “I didn’t realize they were still popular with people of your age group.”

“A…Beanie Baby?” Adrien repeated slowly. He held his kwami closer to him, no recognition of the term in his eyes.

Gabriel abruptly felt very old.

“Yes, a Beanie Baby, a vaguely animal-like doll such as the one in your hand,” said Gabriel, his tone deliberately sharp. “I’m growing tired of these stalling tactics—your report card, Adrien. Now.”

“R-right!”

Adrien hurriedly tucked his kwami back out of sight and pulled out the report card. Gabriel took it, noting the relieved slump of Adrien’s shoulders, before putting revelations regarding Chat Noir aside to review the report.

“So, Father,” Adrien began, breaking the silence. “Do you…like, uh, Beanie Babies?”

Glancing at Adrien over the rim of his glasses, Gabriel folded a hand under his chin as he went back to reading. “I would like you to have a better mark in Arts and Crafts.”

His son laughed sheepishly and dropped the subject.

---

But did not forget, apparently. The Beanie Baby gift basket Nathalie presented him on Father’s Day proved that.

Gabriel eyed the stuffed animals and toiletries suspiciously as Nathalie plucked an envelope from its depths.

“For you, sir,” she said, offering it to him.

Inside was a gift certificate for a Parent-Child day at a spa. Paid for out of Adrien’s own savings, no doubt.

Gabriel turned his head to take in the painting of his wife.

…Well. There was bound to be at least one emotionally vulnerable person at the spa. He could make it a working holiday.

[jjaywmac]

This week, I have had a lot of friends reach out to me.  Great.  Because it is rather bleak in this small apartment in Paris.  I have my favorite songs playing on Spotify; Missy is close by; and a lot of projects in the works, so I stay busy.  AND, I have WiFi (FINALLY) and favorite programs on the television (BBC and CNN).  So, I am NOT bored.  Quite the contrary.  But, no matter how you look at it, this is not my idea of the way to see Paris during my birthday 2020.  Haha.  But this surreal event will begin to move on at some point, so I have to “gut up” while I am going through the days.  As do all of us. 

I have spent a lot of time upgrading my WordPress “Jayspeak” site, so that I now have a link to a “Voluntary Contributions” and “Donations” for readers to help me fund this project.  It is hard to be creative when you’re worried about money.  And, I am worried about money (along with my health).  So, I am considering this creative project “Jayspeak” a business and plan to develop it for my readers and followers.  Let’s face it, it is not every day that a woman, 83 and alone, ups and moves to Paris, France, to live and learn.  Haha.  It even sounds crazy to me!!  Well, actually, there have been a lot of problems, and EVERYTHING is expensive.  Duh.  …which takes me to my birthday, happening on Monday.  March 30, 1937.  Ugh.  I am going to spend some time with Lillie.  Who?  Lillie Westmoreland, my grandmother.  Hang in there!  I will try to make it interesting.  Jay (also known as “Janet Tallulah Jewell”) is speaking. 

One of my friends this week told me this, and I have thought about it a lot.  

“… we all carry the blood of our ancestors, and they survived through much more.”

Thus, I thought about “Lillie”.  And, I have been thinking about her ever since.  WHO?  What?  Lillie Westmoreland.  WHY?  What did she survive?  I don’t know.  This is what I know, sorta. This is her picture.  I don’t know how old she was when this was taken.  My niece, Deb Prince Kroll, colorized it.  She looks to be around 60 to me.  

She was born into a family with 11 (COUNT THEM) – eleven!!!!!! children.  I don’t know where she was in the line-up.  Not oldest; not youngest.  I don’t know. I cannot imagine 10 brothers and sisters in the house.  Help!!!!!   They were not rich.  They were not poor.  I don’t know.  They lived in Royston, Georgia.  VERY SMALL TOWN.  Ugh.  She was born on September 12, 1840.  OK, let’s pause for a money to find out what was happening in the world in 1880. This is her father’s obituary that was in the Royston papers at the time of his death.  He was a Baptist preacher.  (no comment)

Seaborn Westmoreland Obit

Hello, Wikipedia!!! Help.

It was a Sunday.  Lillie was born (probably at home) on a Sunday, in Royston, Georgia.  The United States had five Presidents during the decade, the most since the 1840s. They were Rutherford B. Hayes, James A. Garfield, Chester A. Arthur, Grover Cleveland and Benjamin Harrison.  On that day, James A. Garfield was president.  This is what I found interesting about him.

“At the 1880 Republican Convention, Garfield failed to win the Presidential nomination for his friend John Sherman. Finally, on the 36th ballot, Garfield himself became the “dark horse” nominee.  By a margin of only 10,000 popular votes, Garfield defeated the Democratic nominee, Gen. Winfield Scott Hancock.

Major power political disputes back then – same as now.  As President, Garfield strengthened Federal authority over the New York Customs House, stronghold of Senator Roscoe Conkling, who was leader of the Stalwart Republicans and dispenser of patronage in New York. When Garfield submitted to the Senate a list of appointments including many of Conkling’s friends, he named Conkling’s arch-rival William H. Robertson to run the Customs House. Conkling contested the nomination, tried to persuade the Senate to block it, and appealed to the Republican caucus to compel its withdrawal.  But Garfield would not submit: “This…will settle the question whether the President is registering clerk of the Senate or the Executive of the United States…. shall the principal port of entry … be under the control of the administration or under the local control of a factional senator.”  Conkling maneuvered to have the Senate confirm Garfield’s uncontested nominations and adjourn without acting on Robertson. Garfield countered by withdrawing all nominations except Robertson’s; the Senators would have to confirm him or sacrifice all the appointments of Conkling’s friends.  In a final desperate move, Conkling and his fellow-Senator from New York resigned, confident that their legislature would vindicate their stand and re-elect them. Instead, the legislature elected two other men; the Senate confirmed Robertson. Garfield’s victory was complete.

In foreign affairs, Garfield’s Secretary of State invited all American republics to a conference to meet in Washington in 1882. But the conference never took place. On July 2, 1881, in a Washington railroad station, an embittered attorney who had sought a consular post shot the President.  Mortally wounded, Garfield lay in the White House for weeks. Alexander Graham Bell, inventor of the telephone, tried unsuccessfully to find the bullet with an induction-balance electrical device which he had designed. On September 6, Garfield was taken to the New Jersey seaside. For a few days he seemed to be recuperating, but on September 19, 1881, he died from an infection and internal hemorrhage.

That said, I doubt the Lillie’s family was interested in politics or in the world at large, during those day.  No radios or television.  This was a large family, living in a small town in the Deep South.  Just trying to survive during the depression with a large family (Today, with DNA testing, I have confirmed by Ancestry.com that I have LOTS of cousins and cousins of cousins – especially with 11 kids growing up and having kids – black and white.  Hey, that was the South during those years.  How?  I don’t know how. Get over it!  

“The 1890s was the ten-year period from the years 1890 to 1899.   In the United States, the 1890s were marked by a severe economic depression sparked by the Panic of 1893, as well as several strikes in the industrial workforce. The decade saw much of the development of the automobile.  The period was sometimes referred to as the “Mauve Decade” – because William Henry Perkin’s aniline dye allowed the widespread use of that colour in fashion – and also as the “Gay Nineties”, referring to the fact that it was full of merriment and optimism. The phrase, “The Gay Nineties,” was not coined until the 1920s. This decade was also part of the Gilded Age, a phrase coined by Mark Twain, alluding to the seemingly profitable era that was riddled with crime and poverty.” – Wikipedia

Here is another picture.  I think she is 16.

She would have been 16 in 1896, and there were football teams at the University of Georgia and Georgia Tech.  I know she played baseball with Ty Cobb in Royston.  He was a friend of hers.   She married a lawyer, Glen Dorough, who was also living in Royston.  I know she dreamed of being an actress and had “shows” in the family back yard and would present “pretend stories” to the neighbors in the afternoon presentation.  She would string a sheet on a clothesline for a curtain.  Her father has been described as a “character” with a good personality.  I don’t know much about her mother. 

I don’t know how old Lillie was when she got married.  Young, I think.  Very young.   I do know that she and Glenn had five little girls.  Mother was #2, I think.  Her name was Anna Louise Dorough when she was in college.  Quite a flirt with a good personality.

Ruth was the oldest.  Then, Mother (Anna Louise).  Then, Lillian.  Then, Edna (she died when she was 21, from peritonitis).  Then Rose (the baby).   They were all in their 90’s when they died.  Papa Dorough (Glenn) died of cancer on November 19, 1940.  He was 65.  Lillie was 60.  I still remember the funeral.  Mother sent all of us to the movies so we would not be at the funeral.  But, before I went to the movies, I visited that living room and studied the casket.  I can still remember that day in my mind’s eye.  I can still see the flowers surrounding the coffin in the living room of the Mama Dorough’s boarding house on Green Street in Gainesville, Georgia (my home town).   I don’t know much about Glen. 

Lillie was 45 when her father died, November 7, 1935.  I was born in 1937, so Lillie was still rather young when I was born.  Mother was 35 when I was born.  So she was 33 when her grandfather died.  I think I have all of these ages wrong.  I keep trying to figure out how young Lillie was when she married Glenn, but I am confused.  My brain needs more exercise.  But, if Lillie was born in 1880 and her father died in 1935 and I was born in 1937……  That is where I get confused.  I think ALL of everyone is too young for ALL of this.  And, they all Died VERY OLD.  Amazing.  I want that blood of my ancestors in my veins, especially now that I want time to LIVE and explore Paris.  Haha.

At some point, Lillie started running a “boarding house” and helped with income, taking in “boarders”.  I think they were more into survival mode than what was going in the world.  Newspapers?  College?  Marriages?  I don’t know.  The flu?  Plagues?  Doctors? Medicine?  I don’t know. SEE. That is what will happen to me.  My children and grandchildren will know that I existed, but they won’t know much else.  I have a lot of trouble with that part – the disinterest.    But, enough about me, back to Lillie…

She at some point moved to Atlanta, still making money by taking in “boarders”, cleaning rooms and preparing all meals.  Quite industrious and entrepreneurial, especially when the South was going through a terrible depression. 

I loved Mama Dorough.  She was witty and loved jokes.  She would “chuckle”.  Remember “chuckles”.  Do people still chuckle?   She loved all of my kids, especially Craig and Blake.  She loved me.  She loved ALL of us.  Full of lots of love.  She loved her boarders.  They loved her.  How blessed I was to have her as my role model. At some point, I got concerned because the family did not know a lot about Lillie’s life, so I got some tapes and recorded my conversations with her.  I asked her about her life growing up.  She was reticent to talk about it.  But I got a lot from her.  I need to have help transcribing those tapes.  It is on my long list of projects for “someday”.  I seemed to be the only one who cared.  Debby (my niece) knows a lot more than I do.  She is interested in all of it. 

Lillie died March 6, 1992 at the age of 111.  She would have been 112 on September 12, 1992.  All of her daughters (except for Edna) lived to be in their 90’s. 

So, my hope is that I have Lillie’s blood in my veins and God knows what all she survived!  No one seemed to ask during those days.  “It was not discussed”.  Same as today.  No one is asking about me.  What I have survived. Or that my kids have survived.  Or that my grandkids have survived at their young ages.  They all have survived a LOT. 

Like each one of you.  But we are ALIVE.  Let’s stay that way.  So, on Monday, I shall celebrate Lillie Westmoreland, her life and her times.  And, all she survived.  And her wonderful spirit!  May it continue to live in me, in my blood, in my veins. 

Best, Jay 

(without hair and make-up.  Sorry, but it is recent and in lockdown.  So, you get the picture of a current selfie!!  Take note of the “support Jayspeak” button. To all I offend with my “support” button, I apologize in advance.  But, you move to Paris by yourself when you turn 83 and survive a pandemic!!!  This is not a requirement.  It is a voluntary simple  support button.  You can also do any multiple of 50, like 25 (I think), or 100 or 150 or …..  i hope it works.  Let me know if anyone has problems with it.  It should link with my PayPal account.  But, you also have to have a PayPal account, (I think).   So, this is a work in process.  Haha.   Sorry.

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ALIVE IN MY HEART! LILLIE! This week, I have had a lot of friends reach out to me.  Great.  Because it is rather bleak in this small apartment in Paris. 

[thatishogwash]

Trust me

Bokuroo Week Prompt 7

April 7th: Tshirt

AO3

There was only so many times Bokuto could wake up to soft petals on his pillow or clear his throat and feel petals in his mouth before he had to admit to himself what was happening.  He guessed he could only ignore it for so long, just like he had ignored his budding feelings, before it demanded his attention.  Like a volleyball player ignoring a small injury, letting it become worse and worse until it’s not longer so small and easily fixed.

Though there’s really no ‘easy fix’ for Hanahaki Disease.  The person afflicted with it has three options.  Cut the flowers out, along with their feelings for the unrequited love.  Confess, and then they still might have to cut it off if the person doesn’t feel the same way.  Or let it choke them to death.

Bokuto didn’t like any of those options.  Having such a major operation would keep him from playing volleyball and it was his last year, the last tournament of his high school career was coming up.  He had finally hit his stride as not only an ace but as the captain too.  His dejected modes were happening less with breaks between them farther apart, his cut shot was cleaner than it had ever been, and he had worked up his endurance and stamina to a point that it even rivaled those monsters from Karasuno.  Bokuto had never seen anyone lose as much as they had and continue to come back for more with the exact same enthusiasm and drive as they began with.  It had inspired Bokuto.

“Bokuto, please hurry up.”  Akaashi was impassive as ever, letting the rest of the team pass him on the way out of the clubroom.  Bokuto had gotten a text that had sent him running to the bathroom to cough up little pink petals, the edges a darker pink than the rest.

“Go on without me!  I’ll be right there!”  Bokuto nearly choked himself pulling off his scarf while kicking off his shoes.  They went flying in different directions but that sounded like a problem for his future self to deal with.  Akaashi left without another word as Bokuto began digging in his bag for his training kit.

Fingers wrapped around a blue shirt with a slash of black writing on it.  Bokuto felt something tickle the back of his throat as he pulled out the shirt, knowing it was a bad idea even as he did it.  He had always been a kid to pick at a scab or poke at a bruise and now was really no different.

One month.  It was the growth period of the Hanahaki Disease.  One month meant a person was in the hospital, gasping for breath that would never feel like enough as flowers grew inside them, choking the life out of them in a devastatingly beautiful way.  Morbid curiosity had Bokuto looking up the disease online, saw the autopsy pictures some sites posted of cut open bodies, flowers flowing out of them, growing even in death.  Bokuto looked up people that had gotten it cut out of them, the months of recovery and never feeling like themselves afterwards.

Bokuto stared down at the shirt in his hands, petals clogging his airway as his eyes burned with unshed tears.  He didn’t want to die but he didn’t want to be a different person afterwards.  He didn’t want to cut this out of him.

Bokuto stumbled to the small trash can in the corner of the changing room and coughed and coughed and coughed until he was dry heaving into the can.  Sobs wracked his body as he curled himself up on the ground, allowing himself just this small moment of self pity.

It had been two weeks since Bokuto found the first petals on his pillow after falling asleep texting Kuroo Tetsurou.

Bokuto had been in love with Kuroo for more than two weeks, more like two years.  It had become apart of him and he had accepted it.  It was like his mood swings, sometimes they were great and allowed him to get a lot done but sometimes they swung the other way and he never felt as if he was enough.  Loving Kuroo was like that.  Sometimes, most of the time if Bokuto was honest with him which he always tried to be, loving Kuroo was easy and smooth.  He had been in love with the Nekoma captain for almost as long as they had known each other, it was apart of him.  But sometimes it hurt and clawed at him.

Two weeks ago Kuroo had started to date a girl, someone in the calligraphy club with long straight hair.  A girl with long, delicate fingers and soft gentle eyes.  Someone who got all of Kuroo’s jokes and who took college prep classes with him.  Someone who was the opposite of everything Bokuto was.

It hurt, hurt, hurt but it hadn’t been the first girlfriend Kuroo had.  He’s had exactly three before this girl but Kuroo always talked about how different she was.  How she understood that volleyball had to come first, that she didn’t mind he spent most of his free time with his team or stayed for extra practice even if they hadn’t seen each other outside of school in a couple days.  She was understanding and Bokuto knew he was a needy and greedy type of person.  He demanded attention even as friends, he couldn’t imagine he’d be any better in a relationship.

Bokuto pushed himself up, his throat felt raw and he suddenly felt exhausted.  Changing into his training kit took more effort than it should have but Bokuto forced himself to put one foot in front of the other, made himself stop at the fountain so he could drink some water and spit out a couple petals that had stuck to the sides of his throat.

Loving Kuroo was easy most of the time but it was killing him.

“Bokuto are you feeling alright?”  Shirofuku asked as she crouched down next to him, holding out a water bottle for him to take.  Bokuto could feel the rest of the team look over, the anxious stares a little more than his usual dejected mode earned.

“Oh ho ho?  Are you worried about your captain?  Never fear, you’re brave, wonderful, awesome captain is just fine!”  Bokuto tried a laugh but it was cut off as Shirofuku pushed the end of the water bottle into his forehead.  They shared a look and Bokuto forced a smile.

“You’ve been tired the past couple days Bokuto.”  Akaashi spoke up.  Bokuto had thought he had been keeping his energy up, even if he had gotten in trouble a couple times for falling asleep in class.  They were only an hour and half into their training, it was only their first break and Bokuto felt like he was ready to pass out.

“You haven’t even been bugging any of us for extra practices.”  Komi spoke up, popping around the side of Konoha.

“Bugging?”  Bokuto sputtered out, faking outrage but even that seemed to exhaust him.

“Maybe you should go home and rest Bokuto, we are having another training camp in a week, you want to be at your best don’t you?”  Akaashi asked.  It was the right thing and the wrong thing to say, Bokuto felt fired up but he also felt an itch in the back of his throat.  Not here, he had done so well of keeping it a secret.

“Didn’t you make a bet the last time with the cat captain over who would win the most practice games?”  Konoha spoke up.  The itch in the back of Bokuto’s throat became stronger, he felt like he was suddenly breathing through a straw, he could taste the pollen and petals on his tongue.

“Bokuto?”  Shirofuku asked worriedly before Bokuto shot up and dashed out of the gym, sliding around to the back of it before bending over at the waist to cough up flowers.

Full flowers, not just petals anymore.

Bokuto could hear the pounding of feet behind him so he took off running again, ignoring the fact that all his stuff was in the change room and that was ruining his almost new pair of volleyball shoes.

It took Bokuto two hours to get home.  Fukurodani was two train rides away from his parents apartment complex and Bokuto, feeling weaker than the time he had gotten the flu in his first year, had to take frequent breaks to rest.  He didn’t have any of his money, ID, bus passes, or anything so he had to walk the entire way.  He felt ashamed, knew he’d have to face everyone later but for right now-

“Koutarou!”  His parents rushed at him, pulling him away from the door and checking him over.

“Sorry I-” The words died in Bokuto’s throat as he stared past them to where Akaashi was sitting at his table, mouth pressed into a hard line.  If Bokuto didn’t feel so betrayed he would have felt bad that Akaashi was always settled with being Bokuto’s keeper.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”  His mother cupped his face as his dad ran a hand, far too hard, down his spine.

“Tell you what?”  Bokuto had learned early on with his parents that it was best not to admit to anything they didn’t specify.

“We saw the flowers Bokuto, there were some in the change room too.”  Akaashi sounded, of all things, furious.  Bokuto had never heard Akaashi get actually angry before and it was intimidating and terrifying.

“We set up an appointment-”

“No, no I don’t want to do that!  I don’t want it cut out!”  Bokuto stepped away from the comfort his parents provided as he fisted a hand in the material of shirt right above his heart.

“Koutarou this isn’t a discussion we’re going to have with you, Akaashi said they were full blooms-”  Normally Bokuto wouldn’t dare interrupt his father, especially when he got like this.  Most people weren’t sure how someone so serious and stern could have a son like Bokuto, but they were both passionate people.

“They aren’t yet, the flowers just started happening.  I’m fine, I still have two weeks.”  Bokuto knew it was the wrong thing to say as they all stepped closer to him, furious and hurt echoing on each of their faces.

“How long has this been happening?”  Bokuto’s mother asked, tears in her eyes.

“You are 17!  I’m not having you throw your life away at 17!  You’re still a child, my child and I will make this decision for you.”  Bokuto’s father's voice boomed in the apartment, all composure lost.

“I’m not letting you cut him out of me!”  Bokuto screamed, he could feel the petals in the back of his throat and thought they could not be happening at a worse time.

“Bokuto-” Akaashi tried but Bokuto turned on him quickly.

“You’ve done enough, just leave!”  Bokuto stormed his way to his room, leaning against the door behind him and trying to muffle his coughs in his hand, feeling the soft petals touch against his calloused palms.

Bokuto curled up on his bed, tossing the pale pink flower to the floor and pretending he couldn’t hear his parents and Akaashi discussing him in the living room.

Bokuto woke with a start as they bed dipped with someone's additional weight added to it.  He felt fingers in his hair which he knew couldn’t be pleasant with all the gel he used.

“Hey hey hey Kuroo.”  Bokuto managed to rasp out, his throat hurting and aching now that he was awake.

“Hey Bo,” Kuroo’s fingers gently rubbed Bokuto’s shoulder.  Bokuto almost started laughing.  His parents had called the one person they thought could talk some sense into Bokuto not knowing he was the worst person to call.  “Why didn’t you tell me buddy?  We could have made a date so epic that no one could resist falling in love with you.”  Bokuto clenched his jaw tight, willing the flowers to go back down as his eyes filled with tears.  “Have you tried confessing?  I don’t know anyone who’d turn you down- is it Akaashi?”  Bokuto shook his head, the only thing he could do as petals pushed against his teeth.

Suddenly Bokuto could handle the pressure no more as he started to cough up flowers, blood making them look even more menacing.

“Shit!  No- hold on-” Kuroo cursed but Bokuto grabbed him.

“Please don’t leave,” Bokuto managed to rasp out as he continued to choke up flowers.

“It’s okay, I’m here Bo, I’m here for you.  Help!”  Kuroo called out loudly as Bokuto’s vision became dim pin pricks.

Bokuto was taken to the hospital and he was heartbroken to realize his father was making good on his threat.  The flowers built up at an even more alarming pace, as if they realized they were about to be pulled out by the root.  Bokuto couldn’t breath, could hardly catch his breath, yet he begged to see Kuroo.  Had to see him one last time before he was cut out of him.

“Koutarou you need to-”

“It’s fine,” His mother spoke up, cutting across them both.  Bokuto could see in her eyes she finally understood who this was all about.  “I’m so sorry, my poor baby.”  She kissed his forehead before ushering her husband out.

Kuroo appeared moments later, he was still in his school uniform.  Shirt untucked, tie loosened around his neck.  His clothes were wrinkled, his hair an even bigger mess than usual.  His eyes were red rimmed and his face pale.

Bokuto couldn’t seem to stop crying, which caused Kuroo to rush forward, pressing into Bokuto’s space, curling longer fingers through his hair and touching their foreheads together.

“I don’t want this,” Bokuto managed to whisper, voice a harsh rasp.  What if they took out everything that involved Kuroo?  Their tight friendship, that impenetrable bond that held them together despite their rivalries and distances between them.  What was the difference between romantic love and platonic love to a doctor?  What if they cut it all out?

“You’ll be up in no time Bo, you’re young and strong, your team will make sure they keep going strong so you have a championship to come back to.”  Kuroo promised, reading the situation completely wrong.

“You’ll be here after?”  Bokuto whispered, desperately holding onto Kuroo.

“Of course, of course I’ll stay here, I’ll always be here.”  Kuroo promised.

“Even if- even if I don’t feel the same?  If I don’t act the same?”  Bokuto asked, needed to know despite the fact that he was giving everything away.

“Yeah, why would any of that-” Kuroo pulled back a little even as Bokuto hung on.  “Why would any of that change?”  Kuroo asked carefully.

“Isn’t it obvious?”  Bokuto forced a grin.  Bokuto met Kuroo’s wide, disbelieving eyes and thought oh well, what else did he have to lose?  “I love you, I’ve been in love with you.  I’m sorry, I’m so sorry about it.”

“Say it again.”  Kuroo was gripping the sides of Bokuto’s face, maybe a bit too roughly but Bokuto didn’t care.

“I love you,” Bokuto would say it as much as Kuroo wanted him to because very soon it would be pulled out of him and he wanted to remember how he felt.  Not the suffocating flowers building up in his lungs but the warmth and softness, the devotion and innocence of it.

“Again.”  Kuroo was crying in earnest now.

“I love you-”

“I love you, I love you- fucking hell on earth Bokuto Koutarou, don’t you cut me out of you.”  Bokuto almost didn’t understand as Kuroo pressed even closer, wrapping his long arms around Bokuto and hugging him tight.

“You can’t.”  Bokuto wheezed out.

“I do-”

“You can’t.”  Bokuto argued and was shaken for it.

“Why are you arguing with me you stubborn owl?”  Kuroo’s fingers dug into Bokuto’s biceps.

“You have a girlfriend.”  Bokuto protested weakly, afraid this was all wrong, that it would come crashing down on him.

“Since when?”  Kuroo asked.

“The one in the calligraphy club?”  Kuroo made a face.

“That’s Kai’s girlfriend, Bo I told you to actually read people's texts and not skim them!”  Kuroo shook him again.  “You stupid stupid-”

“You started talking about a girl!  I didn’t want to read in detail about it!”  Bokuto defended himself weakly, pushing Kuroo’s hands away so he could properly press himself against Kuroo’s chest.  Kuroo wrapped his arms back around Bokuto, gentler this time.  “You’ve had other girlfriends.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry it took me so long to realize- I was going to tell you after graduation, I swear it.”  They held onto each other for a long moment.  “Hey Bo?”

“Hmm?”  Bokuto asked, almost asleep.

“You haven’t coughed in a while.”  That woke him up as he realized with a start there was nothing in his throat.  He still felt exhausted, more so than he ever had before, his throat and stomach hurt and ached but the petals pressing against the back of his throat that he had almost become accustomed too was gone.  “What- why are you crying now?”  Bokuto couldn’t help it as he pressed against Kuroo and finally felt like he could breath again.

Bokuto couldn’t believe this all started with a gift in the form of a blue t-shirt that had ‘Trust me’ printed on the front and ‘I’m an Ace-of a guy’ on the back in kanji.

[snickerl]

Elixir Vitae

AU fanfic set around the time of IWTB.

A/N: This chapter got a bit out of hand. I cut the previous chapter in two because I didn’t want it to exceed 4000 words. Now this chapter alone exceeds more than 5000 words because I just couldn’t stop writing. 

Find previous chapters here: Chapter I / Chapter II / Chapter III / Chapter IV / Chapter V / Chapter VI

Chapter VII

“Tell me about our son, Fox!”

No! Please, no!

It’s Sunday morning and we’re sitting at the breakfast table. I’m buried in the paper and she’s been leafing through a magazine until now. I noticed her mind was elsewhere, but I had no idea where it was. She’s brutally yanked out of my current state of Sunday morning bliss with her question.

She must feel my reluctance to answer her because she insists, “you once promised me you’d tell me the whole story.” As if she senses my agony, or maybe the fact that my face has turned to stone betrays me.

“I know I promised, but I wished you wouldn’t ask me to keep my promise.”

Look outside, Scully! It’s Sunday morning, the sun is shining, a wonderful day is ahead of us.

I thought I could take her to the little flea market downtown. She loves strolling past the various sales counters searching for a little something to decorate our house with. We could have one of those wonderful homemade ice cream cones from that infamous Italian parlor on Main Street; strawberry cheesecake for her, double chocolate chip for me. We could walk hand in hand through the park. We don’t have to talk, just enjoy each other’s presence.

Please, have mercy on me, Scully! Don’t make me tell you the saddest story of your life. Not today. Maybe tomorrow. Or the day after tomorrow. Next week? … Ever?

“You said he lived. Why doesn’t he live with us?”

Oh, how I wished he was sitting with us right now, stuffing pancakes into his mouth, babbling about his latest Lego construction or pleading with us for the umpteenth time to get a dog. I wished there was a bike carelessly thrown somewhere in the front yard, neglected by a seven-year-old. I wished the upstairs spare bedroom was furnished for a boy to live in, stuffed with books and toys, all messy, with a bunk bed for his best buddy to sleep over. I wished we had appointments to make with teachers to discuss his scholar merits and with pediatricians to give him flu shots.

To be consciously missing all this hurts so damn badly, she’s got no idea how lucky she is to have no remembrance of what it’s like to have lost a son. I know I’m being unfair. She must feel the hole in her heart, the void William left behind. She just can’t quite explain it, and her scientist’s mind longs for answers. I understand she can’t go on forever without knowing, but does it really have to be today?

“It’s a long story,” I hear myself say.

“I don’t need the whole story, I just want to know more about my son than his name. How old is he?”

I knew my hope that I’d be allowed to leave it at that had been futile. I take a deep breath before I finally answer, each word feeling like a stab in my heart.

“He turned seven not long ago.”

“Why isn’t he living with us? Is it because of me? Because of the amnesia? Do the authorities think I can’t take care of a child because of it?”

“No. Your amnesia has nothing to do with it.”

“Did they take him from us because we were FBI agents, because our jobs were too dangerous for us to be caring for a child?”

“No. He wasn’t taken from us.”

“He wasn’t taken from us? You mean…you mean we gave him up?”

The total disbelief in her voice almost kills me.

Don’t do this to me, Scully, please! Don’t make me tell you what happened to William!

I look into her big, questioning eyes and I see how she longs for answers, but sometimes it’s better not to know the answer to every question.

“Fox! Talk to me! I have a right to know!”

My tongue feels thick and heavy and my mouth is so dry it sticks to my palate. I’m not sure I’ll be able to get a single word out, although she’s absolutely right. She has every right to know, and I’d have to tell her sooner or later anyway, so why not get it over and done with?

My stomach churns because the story has the potential to devastate her. I’m trying desperately to think of a way to break it gently to her, but my brain is not cooperating. I’m coming to the conclusion that the best I can do is to be straightforward and clear, to save her from any misunderstanding. Therefore I supply before my courage deserts me, “you gave him up for adoption before he turned one.”

As was expected, the information knocks her off balance. I can literally see the color disappearing from her face and the air leaving her lungs. Her mouth falls open and her eyes widen in shock.

“What…did I do?” she whispers, although I’m quite sure she understood me very well.

“You had no other choice, Scully,” I’m trying to explain but the words don’t reach her.

“I gave my son up for adoption? I? You didn’t say ‘we’, you said 'you’! What kind of a mother was I to give my child away?”

I have to intervene before she talks herself into something that has nothing to do with the truth. This woman knows nothing about what led her to that terrible moment in her life, of course, she’s jumping to conclusions.

“Scully, listen! Things were very complicated back then. There’s so much I have to explain to you about the circumstances.”

“What’s there to explain? Mothers give their children up for adoption when they can’t…or when they don’t want to care for them. Or when they hadn’t wanted to have them in the first place, when they want to get rid of them.”

“Stop it! Now! None of this applied in William’s case, now shut up and let me explain, will ya?”

But she’s not listening. My harsh words don’t even make her flinch. She buries her face in her hands and starts crying violently. Her shoulders are shaking with every sob that escapes her chest.

This went so awfully wrong! I can’t believe I haven’t thought about how to do this properly, how to spare her those wrong conclusions.

I get up from my chair, kneel beside her and peel her hands off her face before I appeal, “Scully, please listen to me! Listen carefully! I’m going to need some time to explain everything to you, but there’s one thing I want you to understand right away: you weren’t a bad mother. The complete opposite is true. You were the best mother William could have, and you’re not to blame whatsoever for what happened to him. Would you please take that fact for granted? Can you do that for me?”

“I don’t understand,” she whispers.

“Then let me explain. Let me explain how much you loved that child, what he meant to you, and that giving him up was a selfless sacrifice on your behalf and not a sign of you lacking motherly love.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” she sobs, her voice shockingly thin.

“No, I don’t. William was a miracle. God, where am I to begin?”

She looks down at me, and I’m dumbfounded for a moment because I have to look up to meet her eyes. Usually, it’s the other way around. It’s not easy for me to keep my own emotions under control and I curse myself once again for not having made a plan about how to explain this to her. At least, I managed to pull her out of her self-loathing mode. She seems willing to listen to me. She wipes the tears off her face with her hands, straightens her back, tucks some loose strands of hair behind her ear, and looks at me expectantly.

I have to stand up because my knees are aching; I’m not in my twenties anymore. I motion for her to join me on the couch. I don’t want to sit opposite her as if in an interrogation. I want to put my arm around her shoulder and hold her when I tell her. I’m glad she follows me willingly. But when we’re seated, she pulls her knees to her chest and embraces them, like to shield herself from what she’s going to hear. I let her, although I’d prefer more physical closeness. She’s not ready for it, apparently.

She picks up my last line, saying somewhat defiantly, “every new life is a miracle of nature.”

“In our case, it was so much more than that.” I brace myself for her reaction before telling her, “you had been diagnosed with POF.”

The doctor in her instantly understands. “Premature Ovarian Failure? At the age of…uh, how old am I?”

“You’re 43 now.”

“So I was 36 when he was born. When was I diagnosed with POF?”

“A few years earlier.”

“Well, that was definitely premature. I take it we resorted to reproductive medicine.”

She’s fully in doctor’s mode now, and somehow I’m glad because it leaves her detached and less emotional. But we’ll get back to the emotional part, I’m quite sure of it.

I nod. “In vitro. But it didn’t take it.”

I’m not going to tell her that we weren’t together at the time, that she’d asked me as a friend to be her sperm donor and not as her spouse to father her child.

“What did we try then? Gestational surrogacy? Which would mean I didn’t give birth to him, but I found some faint stretch marks on my body. I must have been pregnant at least once in my life.”

“We did not try any kind of surrogacy. And two times yes, you carried him and you gave birth to him. He’s our child. We eventually made him the old-fashioned way.”

“The old-fashioned way? How?”

“You’re a doctor, you know how babies are made.”

Stupid, Mulder! You’re so stupid!

This is not the time for a light banter, and sure enough, she narrows her eyes and shoots warning looks at me.

“You aren’t taking this to a joking level, are you?”

“No! No, I’m sorry.”

“I do know how babies are made, and I can imagine we had intercourse as a married couple, but how come I conceived? If I had POF, I was barren. Without a donated and artificially inseminated egg, there was no chance for a pregnancy.”

'No lies,’ I hear Dr. Pratt whisper into my ear. 'Never bend the truth to cover up something, never let her draw conclusions that are at odds with the truth. You have to be absolutely honest when you talk to her about her past. What seems to be a comfortable loophole at a certain moment will come back to you as a wrecking ball to your relationship when she finds out you were untrue. She’ll find it hard to trust you again. She might never be able to. So, no matter how difficult it is for you, no matter how painful it is for her, tell her the truth. Always.’

“We weren’t married.”

I inhale deeply and hold my breath.

“O-kay. That surprises me a bit, but hey, a lot of couples nowadays choose not to marry.”

“We weren’t even a couple. Not in the proper sense of the term.”

“Not in the proper sense of the term? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Goddamnit, Scully, it was so complicated! We…were so complicated. Nothing was ever easy for us. I don’t know how to explain this to you.”

“For heaven’s sake, Fox, try!”

Okay, I guess now is the time to stop beating around the bush. I need to be very clear on this. “I loved you. And you loved me. But we weren’t involved. Physically involved, I mean. We were like…like…platonic lovers.”

“Well, not so platonic after all if I got pregnant the old-fashioned way.” She draws invisible quotation marks in the air and sounds a little annoyed. She grimaces at her own lame joke, her expression freezes the very next second, though. “Are you not the father? Have I-”

“No,” I interrupt her, “you haven’t! Absolutely not! Jesus, why do you get it all wrong?”

“Because you’re only giving me bits and pieces here! Incoherent, contradicting information that doesn’t make a reasonable whole!”

She jolts up from the couch, taking one of the cushions with her and holding it in front of her chest now, subconsciously shielding her heart. Only that a cushion can’t save the heart from emotional pain.

“I’ve had enough of this!” She’s almost yelling at me. “This is so confusing! I don’t know what to make of all of this. I need some time to sort this out.”

“No!” I grab her sleeve to keep her from leaving. “Please, Scully! You’d be making up countless theories in your head and none of it would be even close to the truth because our lives back then were so out of the ordinary. Give me ten minutes to explain. Please. Just ten minutes.”

She’s standing still for a moment, her back turned toward me. I can tell she’s struggling with herself about what to do.

“Ten minutes. That’s all I’m asking for, and I promise you’ll be wiser afterward.”

She turns around slowly and meets my eyes, hers watery. I’m not sure whether because she’s anxious or sad, or maybe just because she’s angry with me for having been so cryptical so far.

“Promise to tell me the truth,” she demands.

“I promise!” I let go of her sleeve and motion for her to sit next to me again.

She inhales deeply, then places herself on the couch, further away from me this time. Her knees are up again, offering her chin a place to rest on. I don’t know why she needs that distance between us, why she can’t look at me as I speak.

I take a deep, calming inhale of breath myself and start telling her about what led her to the point of giving William up for adoption. Of course, it had to be a short version, otherwise, I wouldn’t be talking for ten minutes but ten hours straight, or maybe ten days even.

She shows no reaction, simply takes all the information in, as if she was listening to a lecture at college. She lets me talk, she’s not interrupting me with questions or demanding I clarify things. I’m not even sure she’s really listening. I pause for a moment to incite some kind of reaction; a movement, a sigh, a word. Nothing. So I conclude my narration.

“We’d unmasked a government conspiracy leading directly to the Bureau with some of our direct superiors being involved. We’d exposed ourselves, Scully. We were abducted, misled, threatened, harmed in many ways, but we never gave up. We couldn’t let those sons of bitches get through with their vile intentions. What used to be my quest had become yours too, and you chose not to leave my side although you had the chance. But when William was born, the stakes were too high. You’d become a mother, Scully, and you had to protect your son. The decision you’d once made for yourself, to put your life on the line for me, couldn’t apply to him. For you, there was no way out anymore, but there was one for William. That’s why you gave him up. The adoption was his one-way ticket away from the omnipresent danger our lives would’ve held for him. That’s it.”

That’s it.

I swallow.

She’s still not moving, isn’t saying anything. She just closes her eyes and a tear rolls down her cheek. I’d like to brush it away but I fear to wake her from her trance-like state and startle her. I have no idea what’s going on in her mind. Does it make any sense to her? Does she think this is all too crazy to be true? Does she remember any of it?

She’s still staring straight ahead, avoiding my eyes, when she speaks eventually. “I couldn’t protect my son.”

Although she heard a lot of reasons why she had to do what she did, that her motives had been beyond all blame, she narrows it down to a point where she’s accusing herself. I know that regardless of what I tell her, she’ll feel guilty. I try anyway.

“Nobody could. Not without denying him a normal life, and that’s what you wanted him to have.”

“You never blamed me for what I’d done?”

“Never.”

“Not even a tiny bit? Secretly?”

“No.”

“You promised to tell me the truth,” she reminds me.

“I am telling you the truth.”

She looks at me with her clear blue eyes, her face unreadable. To my complete surprise, she folds her knees away, leans in and places a gentle peck on my cheek, breathing a soft 'thank you’ in my ear.

“You don’t have to thank me. I owed you the truth.”

“I meant for not casting a stone at me.”

“I was in no position to do that. I would’ve wanted to do the same for him, I only doubt I would’ve had the courage and the strength.”

“That’s why I felt my heart was heavy when you first mentioned his name. I sensed there was a sad story behind it although I couldn’t remember it.”

“It was a shattering, life-altering experience for you, Scully. It’s been branded into your soul, even if you don’t have any access to it at the moment.”

“Probably.”

“How are you?”

“I’m good. I need some time to let it all sink in, though.”

“Take as much time as you need. I’ll be right here whenever you have more questions.”

“Do we some pictures of him? Anything that reminds us of him?”

“Yes. Would you like to see them?”

She nods.

I rise from the couch and cast her a smile.

“Why don’t you make us a pot of tea and I go and fetch what we have.”

There’s a box in the attic. It’s shoved into the rearmost corner, so that we don’t stumble over it every time we pick up something from up there, like the deck chairs in the spring or the Christmas decoration in the winter.

It doesn’t take long for me to find it, although it’s just a usual cardboard box like many others up here, unlabeled and hidden behind a pile of spare tires. I know exactly where it is because unlike Scully I’ve had a look at it from time to time. When she was in the hospital on a double shift, for example, or away for the weekend with her mother. At moments like those, when I felt lonely and my mind wasn’t distracted enough, hence it kept wandering around until it made its way up to where that box was located.

When I return to the living room, the teapot sits on a warmer. Instead of mugs, she put two teacups on the table, along with honey and some milk.

I place the box in the middle of the coffee table.

“It’s small,” she notices.

“Yeah, well, I guess keeping more things wouldn’t have made it any easier.”

We sit for a moment side by side staring at the box like deer caught in the headlights, then she pulls it on her lap and opens it.

I don’t have to look in there to know what’s inside. The only things that remain from our son are the blanket he was wrapped in after he was born, a onesie with a baby giraffe on it, a pacifier, a baby rattle, a piece of paper with imprints of his tiny hands and feet in blue ink, a few pictures, eight, to be precise, and a copy of his birth certificate.

It took me a long time to figure out why she made a copy of it. I guess she wasn’t supposed to because of the adoption being a closed one, but she did anyway. She needed proof that all of it had really happened. The span of this baby’s presence in our lives was so short. In mine, it was just for as long as the blink of an eye. One moment, he made a miraculous entrance into my existence, the very next he was gone. Scully, being prone to relying on hard data as a scientist, kept the written document as a piece of evidence. Not so much for the outside world, but for herself. Although I’m not sure she’s ever looked at it after she handed off the original to the social worker at the adoption agency.

I know I’m not mentioned as the father. The space on the certificate where the father’s name is usually put is blank. Scully and I agreed that it was better this way. Safer. Little did we know that this particular safety measure along with all the others wouldn’t protect him enough. Now I wished my name was on that birth certificate, for the same reasons Scully kept the copy.

The first thing she pulls out of William’s commemorative cardboard box is his onesie. It’s the one I sent her through tortuous paths when he was half a year old and I was separated from my family, having to hide to keep them safe. She puts the garment to her cheek.

“It doesn’t smell like him anymore,” I say. I can almost feel the sensation on my own skin for all the times I’d done that, too, hoping to connect with him somehow. But other than the softness of the fabric there is nothing there.

“Has it been washed?” she asks.

“Probably not. I guess the smell has just faded. It’s been more than six years, Scully.”

“Sure,” she sighs.

One after the other, she takes the other items out of the box. She smiles at the hand and footprints, unfolds the baby blanket, and furrows her brows at the birth certificate. She looks at the pacifier and the rattle, maybe trying to picture herself calming a baby boy with them. She sets all the things on the coffee table next to the teapot without a word. She then retrieves the envelope containing the pictures we have of our son, all eight of them.

I don’t know why there are only so few. Maybe she didn’t take so many, maybe she threw them away in agony after he was gone, but most likely she deliberately chose the few she kept, each one marking a special moment.

There’s the one of us three, the only one of us three, a few days after he was born. Frohike took it in Scully’s apartment. William had just been nursed and fallen asleep in his mother’s arms. I’m sitting next to Scully in that picture, my arm around her shoulder. She’s beaming into the camera and I’m flashing a somewhat goofy grin. There’s an inscription on the back in Scully’s hand. It says, 'We’re parents!’

Without looking at the back, she holds the picture out to me. “We look happy.”

“We were happy, Scully. Very happy,” I answer and my voice almost deserts me.

There’s a photograph of William in his crib, the crib Scully and her siblings had spent their first months in, showing a toothless smile. On the back she’d written, 'our baby in the family crib’.

There’s one she took of me while I was sleeping on the couch with William resting on my chest, looking at Scully as if he wanted to say, 'look, mommy, daddy passed out’. When I’d first read what’s on the back, 'my two men’, my heart bled even more than when I was looking at the picture itself. The words still have that effect on me.

There’s a picture with just the word 'grandma’ on the back. It shows a smiling Margaret with William on her lap, feeding him a bottle.

“How did my mother take it?”

“She needed some time to get over it,” I tell her. Scully had never told me about the many discussions she had with her mother, arguments even, but Maggie had. “You should talk to her about it one day. When you’re ready. She can tell you much more about him than I can. She babysat him quite a lot.”

The remaining four pictures are only of him.

William sitting on a blanket on the floor with the rattle in his mouth. The back reads, 'bothered by his first tooth’. William in his high chair, carrot mash smeared all over his face. The back reads, 'having fun with the first solid food’. William on all fours, crawling towards the photographer, his face beaming. The back reads, 'getting ready to conquer the world’.

And then there’s the last one. It shows William in a jacket and a funny hat, buckled up in his car seat. It’s slightly out of focus as if taken in a rush. It’s the only one without anything written on the back. Even without any explanation, I have an idea of what I see in this picture.

Scully’s eyes are glued to it now. Then she looks at the others again, one by one. It must strike her how different that one is. Eventually, she speaks out loud what I never dared to ask her about.

“This is the last picture we have of him.”

I only nod.

“We don’t know what he looks like today, where he lives, who his parents are.”

These are no questions, just findings from her assessing everything she’s heard about William’s adoption from me today.

“Is there any chance for us to get in touch with him?”

I shake my head no.

“To find out his whereabouts or how he’s doing?”

Again, I have to shake my head.

“Can he get in touch with us? If he wants to, maybe when he’s a teenager? In puberty, adoptive children often develop a longing to learn everything about their biological roots.”

“No,” I answer, “it’s been a closed adoption. All information is sealed. It had to be done this way to keep him safe.”

I’m not telling her that there is a person who knows. Skinner. He knows the name of the couple who adopted William and he knows where they live. Our former boss keeps an eye on our son, just to make sure the forces Scully tried to protect him from haven’t tracked him down after all. It’s calming for me to know Skinner’s looking out for him, but it’s also a constant temptation to pry the secret information out of him. I wonder if I will ever hold him at gunpoint, yelling at him to tell me where William is.

“So we will never see our son again.” Scully sighs heavily. “We know nothing about him and never will.”

There’s nothing further for me to say.

We sit in silence for a long time and sip our tea. She looks okay, a bit exhausted maybe, but not devastated or broken.

“Thank you for telling me everything.”

“I promised.”

“Yes, you promised, but still, it must have been difficult for you. He’s your son, too, and you lost him. I understand now why you wanted to keep it from me when I first asked you about him. I hadn’t been stable enough at the time to deal with it. Thank you for taking such good care of me, Fox.”

Despite her frequent use of my first name in the past months, I’m simply not getting used to it. It has, and it will continue doing so, a weird ring.

Scully, it’s me, Mulder!

“You’ve always been my favorite patient, Scully,” I say and make her laugh.

She places the box on her lap and puts the William memorabilia back in, piece by piece, very carefully and gently. She sets the box on the coffee table and puts the lid back on.

“What do you say we keep it down here from now on instead of hiding it in the attic? Maybe not here in the living room, but how about our bedroom closet?”

“I like the idea.”

I really like the idea. I love it actually. Maybe we’ve just taken a huge step toward dealing together with the loss of William. Maybe it’s going to be one good thing this damn amnesia brings along in its wake. If we stop trying to cope with it separately, if we start sharing our grief and our guilt feeling, maybe then we’ll be able to halt the downward spiral we’d definitely been on before Scully was taken. We’d been drifting away from each other, slowly but gradually, each of us alone in trying to come to terms with the emptiness our son left behind. I felt it but I couldn’t do anything against it. If this is meant to be the onset of a new way for us, then I swear to God I’ll never curse that fucking amnesia again.

“You know what?” she says and rises from the sofa, “I’d like us to go for a walk. Do you know that Italian ice cream parlor on Main Street? Francesco’s Gelato? Their ice cream is heavenly. Have your ever tried Bacio? It means 'kiss’ in Italian. It’s a delicious mixture of hazelnut and chocolate. I’m in the mood for one of their cones. What about you?”

I’m definitely in the mood for a kiss!

“My treat,” I say.

to be continued

[jkottke]

That fainting life

Isabella Rotman drew a comic for The Nib about her life as a hemophobe (someone who faints at the sight of blood).

Once at a former deli job, I passed out onto a pizza oven in response to a coworker's particularly graphic description of a lawn mower injury. Had the oven been on, I would have suffered some pretty drastic burns.

I'm a fainter, though not at the sight of blood. After fainting a couple of times in high school, a doctor chalked it up to low blood pressure -- I am the chillest mofo you know, blood pressure-wise -- and urged me not to stand up too quickly after lying down. Just this morning, I did not heed that advice and almost toppled over after getting out of bed and stretching my arms above my head.

But my bigger problem, and what made Rotman's comic resonate with me, is that medical procedures and doctor's offices also cause me to faint. This wasn't always the case. When I was younger, I received allergy shots up to three times a week and had no problem going into the clinic to get my shot...I even looked at the thin needle going into my arm every time. Flu shots, dentist visits, doctor's appointments? No problem. Then when I was 17, I went to the local clinic for a mandatory physical for college. They did a blood draw, which went smoothly, but right afterwards, as I was sitting in a chair in the hallway, I fainted -- probably because of my low blood pressure. Weird, but not a big deal.

Fast forward 12-15 years, during which time (because I was young and healthy and dumb and medical care is expensive) I did not visit a doctor's office1 and somehow I had developed a phobia of needles going into my skin. I found this out when I went to get a flu shot, watched the needle sink into my arm, and promptly passed the fuck out.2 Since then, any time I've had to get a shot or blood drawn, I have fainted (or at least felt like I was going to).

That's bad enough, but the problem became psychosomatic. Any trip to a doctor's office will now trigger a faint feeling, even if I'm not the patient. Every time I take my kids to the pediatrician, there's a possibility I'll end up on the floor. When my wife was pregnant with our first kid, I nearly fainted at one of her ultrasound appointments and the ultrasound tech plopped me down in a nearby chair and handed me a glucose drink, telling me that becoming a father is a lot to handle for some men. (I think I nodded weakly, not even able to muster a "yeah, it's not that".) It's gotten to the point where even *thinking* about it makes me feel weird. My palms have been sweaty and I've felt lightheaded the entire time I've been writing this post. The same thing happens when I tell people about it in person. It's ridiculous and I feel stupid about it, even though it's a stark reminder how much your subconscious thoughts can affect your body (and how little control we have over ourselves sometimes).

As Rotman did, I have been attempting exposure therapy with some success. When I went in for a physical a few months ago, I told the nurse that I might faint during the blood draw. She had me lay down on the table and just before she came over with the kit, I popped my headphones in and put on some relaxing music (Tycho I think). I broke out in a sweat and the procedure took much longer than it should have -- she had to stick me *twice* because she didn't get enough the first time -- but I got through it without passing out. Progress to build on, I hope!

Aside from a trip to the emergency room from -- you guessed it! -- a fainting incident when I was 24. Came to on the floor of the bathroom having slammed my mouth on the edge of the counter. It was exactly as painful as it sounds and it totally fucked up my grill.↩

And wow, did the nurse look alarmed when I came to a few seconds later. They all look alarmed, even when I tell them ahead of time that I might faint. One of the last times, the nurse said, "I didn't think you were actually serious." (That fainting experience was the weirdest one I've ever had. According to the nurse, I was out for about 6-8 seconds but had a whole experience in my head that lasted for at least a half hour. I wasn't near death, but it felt very real and I can definitely see how some people would interpret that as an out-of-body or religious experience.)↩