#its perfect. a trek in the dark where orpheus will ALWAYS turn back and eurydice will ALWAYS die

[qoldenskies]

ive discovered so much music looking for inspo for this fic that i might just man up and make a whole playlist for it LMAO

[hadestownmodern]

French Fry (Modern au)

I deadass forgot that I wrote this until @dilforpheus  reminded me last night…props to her and @mimymomo  and  @bakedbeans-orpheus   for the peer love and support <3 I hope this does the “birth fic” concept even a little justice!

————  There’s a flurry of activity around her-doctor and nurses dressed in their scrubs bustling around, the room’s energy bursting with excitement as she hears tiny cries. Eurydice looks up at Orpheus, red-cheeked and crying, knuckles surely white from the pressure she’d held on his hand. It’s a girl. She feels the weight upon her chest a second before she registers what’s happening, and then it’s all she can think about. The baby-their baby-wriggles a bit against her, settling and taking in tiny, quick breaths of air. Her naked skin is soft against hers, an addictive feeling; her breathing begins to slow, steadying as Eurydice holds her against her chest. She bends her neck to press her lips to her head and keeps them there, breathing in her smell and the feeling of the pouf of dark hair against her bare skin. She doesn’t realize that she’s crying until she notices that Orpheus is too-Orpheus, who sits next to her on the bed, one leg on and one leg off, wrapping Eurydice in his arms and staring down at their baby. He reaches one hand to her cheeks and rubs the tears off, presses his forehead to hers and lets out a breath of nervous, excited, disbelieving energy.

             “Look at her,” he’s caught between a soft voice and a whisper, catching with emotion. “She’s so beautiful.”

             She kisses him, gentle and chaste, and her giggling sigh brings a new form of warmth into his world. Orpheus holds her closer, shifts his weight and presses the length of his body against hers. He brings one finger to the baby’s tiny back, traces soft lines up and down her skin.

While Eurydice stares down at their daughter he continues to look at her. Her bangs are plastered to her forehead with the beads of sweat that had formed, her downcast eyes puffed with exhaustion. She glows; smiling softly, speaking in a singing whisper. She kisses her over and over-her head, her cheeks, her tiny fingers.

“I know I said that all newborns look like aliens, but ours is the prettiest alien there ever was.” The compliment is glowing, Eurydice then cooing and repeating it over again-“our pretty little French fry.”

“French fry?” He chuckles, pulling her from her adoration just long enough for her shrug, tilting her head to the side.

“Might as well name her after the thing she wanted most in this world.” He can’t argue with the logic, the smell of crisp fried potato strings in all variations permanently burnt into his memory. From late night trips up and down the stairs to the bar, to one particular morning, after a few days of morning sickness that absolutely consumed her body, where she’d mentioned good Cajun fries and he’d made a phone call and then trekked sixteen blocks to get them before she woke up. She’d even attempted to make them herself once, nesting and on a suggestion from Hades to “just try it-maybe you’ll make enough to keep that baby at bay for a while.”

That incident had ended in tears before she’d even finished cutting the potatoes.

And now they had her-after months of completely new ground, getting to know each other while setting up for a future together, an engagement and Orpheus graduating college-their perfect baby lay on her chest, sleeping peacefully with tiny, pouty lips. She resembles Eurydice most, with her dark hair and the shape of her nose, and Orpheus finds excitement in these facts. He points them out readily to their visitors-Hades, Persephone, Junie, and Hermes-who take turns cradling their newborn for short moments, before Eurydice craves the feeling of her daughter in her arms again. Even Orpheus, whose heart has spent this time rebuilding itself to fit the size of his love for her, only holds her briefly. He hands her back to Eurydice with ease and watches her; her tender touch, the dulcet tone of her voice, the kisses and the way her eyes remain wide and awestruck as she looks down at their daughter. Nine months ago, he’d shaken her hand. Nine months ago they’d talked, shared stories over Thanksgiving dinner. Nine months ago, he’d taken her home and it quickly became their space. Now, he isn’t sure what he would do without her; how he had been living a life that didn’t include her or their daughter at its center.

Hours later, when the visitors had come and gone, they’d both fallen briefly asleep and woken up again to this new version of their world, where Eurydice is accustomed to the weight of their baby on her chest and the warmth of her almost-husband beside them.

“Hey,” she doesn’t turn to address him, keeps her eyes on the sleeping bundle in her arms. “I have an idea for a name.”

It had been a shock when their visitors had come and there still wasn’t a name attached to her. They hadn’t set many aside; ideas had been tossed around, but they always ended back at nicknames like bump or wild child or simply just baby. He’d call her baby every time he saw Eurydice, bent down to her level to say good morning or good night. She’d call her wild child as she danced around to Orpheus’s singing, put one hand over her belly and marvel at the feeling of her kicking around inside. They’d both call her bump-addressing her within their own conversations as if she could hear them; what should we have for dinner tonight, bump? Nothing had sounded right-nothing had stuck.

“I was thinking about it before we fell asleep-We’re not going to give her some trendy top 10 name. That’s not us. I think it should be something more than that.”

He nods in agreement, watching her expression shift and change as her thoughts collect and rearrange themselves. She’s fidgeting; not enough to the untrained eye. For Orpheus, who can’t help but notice everything about her since they’d met, the fidgeting calls his attention to a twinge of nerves.

“I think we should name her Melody.”

“Melody.” He repeats the name, lets the song of his voice carry it through the air. The moment he feels it fall from his lips, he knows that it’s her name. He says it again.

“Melody. I did say fries were her favorite thing, but it was you. Every time you sang, she knew. Every time you spoke, or even came into the room, it was this instant reaction. She’s been listening to you, waiting for you. So��Melody-after your music.”

He’s crying, a mass of emotion as he bends down to rest his head on his daughter’s head, closing his eyes. Eurydice brings one hand to the back of his neck, running her fingers along his hair. They stay like that for a moment; tucked close together, breathing and kissing and living in the feeling of being together. Orpheus says her name over again, and Eurydice thanks fate for nine months ago, knocking on the door of a college professor with the expectation of a hot meal and awkward conversation. Letting in the warmth around her; the ring on her finger, the sound of Orpheus singing their daughter’s name in floating tones, Eurydice finally feels herself fill up on what she’d been missing for most of her life. Eurydice feels the warmth of family.