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moonbaby26 · 4 years ago

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Title: The Past

Pairing: Peter Maximoff x Reader, and past references to Peter x Crystal (from The Inhumans).

Summary: Continuation from previous chapter. Set after the battle with Apocalypse, you and the others are still biding your time while waiting to get back home. After touching base with Xavier to see where everything stands, you get to spend some more alone time with Peter and learn more about his fears and his past.

Notes: Please don’t @ me Inhumans fans! 🥺 I have zero problem with Crystal. And for those that don’t follow the comics, Crystal and comics!Quicksilver were once married, even having a daughter together named Luna. But the two weren’t compatible, and things went sour. Crystal cheated on him (Pietro was shitty to her too) and their marriage was eventually annulled. She remarried later, but he never did.

Warnings: Some cursing, a bit more necking. Talk of past unhealthy relationships, mention of sex.

Chapters: Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Taglist: @drikawinchester , @n0obmaster69 , @alexloveskili , @what-a-silver-lining , @bluesprings18 , @weakmoony-stuff , @slytherinsi-mp , @wintwrsoldiwr , @tommy-braccoli , @amourtentiaa , @cringingmemeries , @bi-panicatthe-disco , @himbos-are-my-lifeblood , @simp4mcuwomen

Peter Maximoff x Reader Masterlist

—————————

“Charles!” You heard Hank’s relieved surprise from somewhere nearby, yourself immediately trying to get back out of the bunk at the commotion.

Peter had no choice but to let go of you then, albeit still somewhat reluctantly before he sat up himself, grabbing his crutches off the floor to follow you.

“Well it’s about time. We were starting to wonder if we needed to mount another rescue,” Raven chimed in, one hand on her hip as she looked Xavier over. “Rough night?”

You could see the Professor then, seated tiredly in the wheelchair they’d given him with the rest of the group now standing around as you joined them.

“It was quite a strenuous night, yes,” Xavier responded, evidently having just come into the barracks as the door still hung open behind him.

Peter chuckled oddly beside you at the Professor’s choice of words. Though not all that loud to really have been intended for the group.

You wouldn’t have thought much of it, except for the funny look that came over Xavier’s face as he chided him instantly. “Peter, that is entirely inappropriate.”

But the others, save maybe Jean, looked just as confused as you at the seemingly random exchange, before Xavier kept on.

“Yes, Peter...Moira did accompany me all night. We had a lot to catch up on, even after the officials were done with their lengthy interrogations. But she and I talked. Please do keep your mind from the gutter. The strenuous activity I was referring to was the constant mental blocking and redirecting I imposed to those doing the questioning as to spare you all from being put in a poor light, or even remembered too well as significant players in this at all to keep you out of their future investigations.”

For his own part though, Peter didn’t look too embarrassed, or put off any really from the abrupt admonishment. Even as the Professor had just given details on the lengths he’d gone through to protect everyone, Peter only smiled, raising both hands as if to feign innocence, the crutches propped under his arms. “Hey now. No judgement here, Prof. And I didn’t say it out loud, right?”

“You didn’t have to.” Xavier sighed. “When something strikes you as funny, especially something sophomoric, you transmit it like a beacon.”

Peter looked both curious and amused at that new concept, but said nothing more.

A sly look was starting to glean behind Raven’s eyes though before she interceded instead. “You know, I don’t think I fully believe you, Charles.”

“Pardon?” There was a little surprise as Xavier glanced up to her.

But she just tilted her head, smirking slightly. “For as much crap as you always gave me about staying ‘professional’ with teammates back in the day, you think I’d just offer no comment now? Don’t lie to them. You didn’t only talk. Knowing your past with her, I’m sure of it actually.”

Peter just whistled then as Hank stared in helpless silence.

“Raven...” The Professor warned, but already knowing it was likely futile. “Is this really the time?”

“These might be your new X-Men, Charles.” She motioned to you all. “After all they’ve been through in the last 48 hours, I promise you they aren’t just kids anymore. Just like we weren’t.” She glanced to Hank briefly, then back to the Professor. “Don’t make them think we all walked around like robots back then, or that we would now. I always hated when you did that.”

Xavier closed his eyes a moment, taking a breath before looking back to everyone. “Admittedly, there has been much self sacrifice recently, and I am extremely proud of you all for how you rose up to help defend one another when everything was at stake. And there is nothing shameful in forming more personal bonds, of course. Raven is correct in that regard, though her delivery and sense of timing may leave something to be desired.”

Raven still shook her head. “You use so many words to still say nothing sometimes.”

“Hank, feel free to speak up any time now really.” Xavier deadpanned.

“Um, well...” Hank stammered a bit. “Did they say anything about when we might get to leave?”

The awkwardness was lessened somewhat at that as you all perked up at the question, equally ready to move on from this ship.

“Yes in fact, thank you, Hank.” The Professor was visibly relieved to get back to a more practical subject. “We will sleep here again tonight, but tomorrow they’re taking us to Kasteli airport on the island. It’s just a single runway, but large enough for the government flight they’re chartering to come here. It will be making multiple stops to pickup as many stranded U.S. targets as possible in the European region before crossing the Atlantic to deliver us to McGuire Air Force base in New Jersey.”

“Really...Jersey?” Peter commented flippantly. “Better than nothing I guess.”

But Xavier just ignored the interruption this time, “Moira’s contacts will furnish us all with I.D.’s and passports to get back into the country. For those of us that already had one, but may have lost it in all the recent events, it will be a reprint from previous government record. For those that never had one, they will create them for you.” He looked to Ororo and Kurt particularly there.

“What about the school?” Scott asked, “And all the other students? Are they okay?”

It was true that after you’d all been taken by Stryker and his men, you couldn’t know what had happened to anyone else after. Where they’d gone now with no place to stay, and if they’d remained safe with Magneto’s previous lashing out on the world.

The Professor nodded, clearly approving of that concern. “It was very difficult to get in contact with anyone directly. But again, Moira pressured her agency for assistance there. I’m told they were finally able to reach some of the staff who had taken the students to nearby hotels while trying to inform their families of their whereabouts. The explosion has been officially deemed due to a ‘gas leak’ however.”

He looked to Scott directly then though before continuing solemnly. “Of course for your family, Scott, an agent went personally to inform them of the truth. I’m so sorry. I know there hasn’t been any time to mourn Alex yet. His sacrifice will not be forgotten. He was only trying to protect me. We will have a proper ceremony for him as soon as we are able.”

You saw Jean take a hold of Scott’s hand as he only nodded rather than reply, seemingly unwilling to talk much more on that subject right now.

Xavier understood, keeping on. “As for the school itself, it will take time to rebuild of course. For those that do have safe homes to return to with family, that will have to be where they stay for now.” Yet the look in his eyes said how surely he knew that that would not be the case for many. A very common thread in so many of your histories was rejection by your own families.

“And for those who do not have anywhere else safe to go, I’m going to see what we can rent or lease in the interim once we’re back in the states. Hopefully something a bit more comfortable than the local motels.”

“And Stryker?” Raven interjected again, a little coldness to her voice though. “Did you call your ‘interviewers’ out on that bullshit?”

The Professor ruffled slightly at the language, but did not argue with it. “They claimed ignorance on those operations entirely. Looking into their minds, they did believe those facilities existed, but it was completely above their security clearance to know anything of what went on inside them. I think Stryker had partnered more with a private firm to be honest.”

Hank sighed. “Wonderful, more secret organizations bent on using us for experimentation and weaponry.”

Xavier agreed. “Yes, that will remain an ongoing threat I’m afraid. But all the more reason for us to keep training the youth. We will not be helpless in this world as long as we continue to grow our strengths together, and protect one another.”

Raven raised her eyebrows at those words. “Hmm. That almost sounds like the need for some kind of team again, doesn’t it, Charles? Fighters instead of pacifists? Maybe you should actually listen to the things I say for once.”

He didn’t rise to her baiting though, only starting to back his chair away then. “In due time, Raven. We shall see where this all ends up. But as for the present, now that everyone is caught up on what we know, I believe several of you were wishing for some time above deck.”

“That is an understatement,” Ororo answered, looking surprisingly uncomfortable the more you actually looked at her then. “The longer we’ve been here the more it feels like a tomb.” She added.

“She has claustrophobia.” Jean replied only in your mind, likely seeing the puzzlement on your face. “But she’s been hiding it well.”

You felt a bit guilty for not having noticed regardless, immediately glad for Jean sharing so that you could end that obliviousness. That was just the basics of being friends, knowing what the others were going through, to be of help whenever you could.

“Yes, absolutely!” You spoke up too. “Will they let us walk around a while up there?” The whole Mediterranean was outside, the sky and the water. And anything would be better than this endless grey metal, bulkheads, and compartments all in artificial lighting.

“I don’t know that I’m going to give them much choice,” Xavier smiled, fully exiting back out of the doorway then. “Come along all of you. We’ll see what we can do.”

—————————

You were certain that the Professor had indeed used a good bit of mental persuasion to grant you all full access to the flight deck. But as no planes were taking off, landing, or anything at all really, it was fairly safe to wander as you pleased right now.

Scott had wanted to get a closer look at some of those jets regardless though. Himself, Jean, Kurt, and Ororo going over to check out those that were still parked near the center of the deck.

Raven and Hank had wandered off somewhere near the bow, while Moira had reappeared and you’d seen her sit down in the shade under the ship’s bridge tower with Xavier. You could see them still talking as you and Peter had walked off towards the stern.

The air did feel as good as you’d hoped. It was cool, with that distinct smell of salt, dancing both you and Peter’s hair around lightly in the breeze.

But you wished you could really be at the water’s edge, to touch it, or even swim in it. It’d been such a long time since you’d gotten to be at the ocean.

It made you wonder too though where Peter had spent his time as a child. Had his family travelled to the beach much during his summers growing up?

“So you lived near Washington D.C.?” You asked, looking upward though as you now walked under a fighter jet’s wing, many more left waiting here at the aft of the ship. You remembered his words to Magneto, about the Pentagon being so close to their home at some point. Even if Peter had never known his father had been imprisoned there all along.

“Still do.” Peter answered, reaching out to grab your hand before you walked back out of the shade from under the jet. “Want to sit down?”

You glanced back at him, already wondering if he was being purposeful in this location or not. You were now as far from the others as could be after all. And even from the bridge, the sailors wouldn’t be able to see you now beneath this jet.

He smirked, maybe knowingly even as he responded crassly. “What? These things are killing my armpits.”

You smiled, still wondering, but helped him sit down anyway as you set the crutches beside you before joining him.

“So you still live by the Capitol....” You continued, gently prodding to try and hear more about him.

“Yeah,” He snaked one arm around your waist. “Suburbs just outside of D.C. Still in my Mom’s basement, same as always.”

You did recall him joking about that on the ride to Egypt, about still living with his mother. But what kind of woman was she though? Bold enough to flee from Magneto to a whole new country to raise her children at least. “Is she...” You weren’t quite sure the polite way to ask. Or actually if you even should, but it was already out of your mouth, so you continued hesitantly. “Is she like us?”

“Nah. She’s not a mutant.” He responded easily. “But my sister is.”

You looked back to him at that. He hadn’t told you much about Wanda yet, besides the fact that they were twins and that maybe she’d had some struggles with depression. Which was so common for your kind as well as you tried to learn to accept yourselves and the world’s sometimes cruel view of you.

The reminder of him being a twin was of course fuel for your imagination too as you tried to picture what any twin sister of Peter’s could really be like.

But he was getting surprisingly good at reading your expressions it seemed as he just laughed. “No, Wanda’s not just a female version of me if that’s what you’re thinking. I doubt the world could handle that, right?”

“Probably not.” You admitted. Trying not to get distracted with the mental image of a much more feminine Peter zipping around.

When you felt him tug you closer to him, you came back to attention. His fingertips were messing with one pocket of your pants idly now.

“She’s way smarter. More powerful for sure.” He then continued after a moment, with a little more consideration. “A little scary too actually. A lot more like our Dad I guess.”

“More powerful than you?” You asked honestly. Of course his powers might not be as in your face as something like Scott’s eye beams, or Ororo’s lightning bolts and their destructive power. But he’d already impressed you, no question.

“Well yeah. I’m just a jerk that runs fast.” He replied, looking a little surprised by your sincere look. “You think that’s powerful?”

“Peter, you can practically stop time on a whim. That’s way more than just running fast.” And that was no exaggeration to you. There was no other way to explain how he’d cleared the whole mansion even faster than the explosion could take it.

“I mean it’s saved my ass a few times yeah.” He conceded. “But...” He quieted, still watching you.

That serious look had come into his eyes again, like a cloud crossing over the light. He wanted to say something more and couldn’t.

“What?” You finally asked gently. It was just the two of you now. “You can say whatever you want, Peter.”

It was so evident that he wasn’t yet used to the freedom of expression that many of the rest of you were. He hadn’t had those years worth of safety net within the school, getting to air your thoughts with one another as almost second nature after so long.

He took a breath before eventually trying though. “Well...when I first started figuring out what I could do, it was such a rush, definitely. I could skip class whenever, take anything I knew Mom couldn’t or wouldn’t buy me. The dickheads that used to try to push me around couldn’t even touch me anymore.”

Yet he shifted, some unease still building in him even as you just listened quietly. “But, eventually you realize the people who barely gave you any notice before, that then they can’t even see you at all any longer.”

He was looking in your eyes again, as if he was still waiting to see some judgement there, but he’d already said too much to stop now. He couldn’t reel it back in, even if he may have wanted to. “And when I got older, I finally started having these nightmares...that everything got stuck like that you know. More and more, that I was going to do it too long one day, too many times one day and everything was going to finally stick that way for good. That no one would ever hear or see me again. Like this super shitty purgatory, of frozen people all around, and you’re just some ghost moving through them.”

You were surprised at first, yes. But maybe not so much the more you really considered it. What he spoke of was a horrible fate to consider to be sure. But for someone you already knew could actually be very self conscious at his core, there was even another layer to it. Was it really that much of a stretch that he could also worry about feeling even more unseen? More invisible, to the point that that could be his life forever?

The flashy jackets and clothing tied in a bit more now to that overall profile you were putting together here. But it meant so much to you that he was willing to share this at all, when it clearly was something very deep for him.

“I still dream that sometimes.” He admitted. “Freaking sucks.” He raised his bare left wrist then, looking at it with some regret. “It’s normally why I always wear a watch too. If nobody’s around for me to judge what speed I’m moving at, I have to look at the second hand to make sure it’s still trying to move. Freaks me the hell out if I can’t check it.”

You knew he’d left all his other things in the jet when everyone had changed into those flight suits before heading to Egypt. And all that was gone now. “You are powerful.” You insisted softly though. “And I don’t think I’ve ever met one of us yet that didn’t fear losing control, of becoming a victim to our own abilities in the end...”

Without thinking you turned then, getting up on your knees so you could wrap your arms around him. You felt him tense only for a moment, surprised but then quickly accepting the tight hug for what it was as he relaxed into it.

You spoke into his ear as he slid his arms back around you in return. “You don’t have to hold any of these things in any longer either though. You’re with friends now.”

But when your grip eventually loosened, he just pulled you around so that you were then seated nearly in his lap before he hugged you around your waist again.

“But for how long?” He asked seriously. “You and the others will go back to New York won’t you once we’re back in the U.S.? And I’ll have to go back to D.C. to show Mom I’m not dead, I’m sure she’s tripping out right now.”

“Well...” You understood he’d certainly have to go home for at least a while. But the school would be rebuilt eventually. “Have you thought about, once the school is established again I mean, maybe joining us?”

That did get a slight chuckle from him. “I’m already a dropout, babe. I never even finished high school. Not really a good candidate for higher learning.”

But you weren’t so easily dissuaded. “It’s more than just math and science classes, Peter. The younger kids always need mentors. And there’s the chance of working with the Professor and the other staff too, learning to unlock your full potential. You don’t have to hold back there, or hide anymore.”

He caught you by the bottom of your chin then though, tilting your head back as he seemed to consider kissing you again. “You want me to come there then?”

“Yes.” You agreed, the word at least sounding confident despite your heart rate increasing again.

“And are we going to share a bunk again tonight?” He smirked, knowing full well he was now derailing a previously serious conversation.

“I guess that depends on you.” You tried to counter, but he really had too unfair of an advantage in how easily he could still fluster you. And you weren’t sure when that was ever going to fade.

You waited for him to continue the banter though. To do anything really. But for several long moments he only watched you instead.

“Well?” He finally said.

“Well what?” You answered.

“You want to make out under this fighter jet before they call off mutant recess? The bell’s probably going to ring soon to send us all back to being out of sight, out of mind on the U.S.S buzzkill.”

Sometimes you wondered if he was actually the older of you two at all. “Don’t enjoy your own jokes too much now. You know what Xavier said about you transmitting your thoughts.” You were at least able to taunt back a little.

“Ah, he’s all about that CIA chick right now. I mean, more power to him, nothing wrong with it. She seemed pretty badass. But he should have just taken the compliment earlier instead of trying to drag me about it. But not bad for an old dude you know? Especially now that he looks a little more like Mr. Clean.”

“Peter.” The Professor wasn’t even that old, but it was by and large beside the point. “You’re trying to make me kiss you again so that you’ll stop talking aren’t you?”

“Maybe.” He grinned. “But hey, I never thought I’d get this far, I’m going to enjoy this every chance we get.”

The newness hadn’t worn off at all, that much was true. But wouldn’t it eventually? And would he still think so much of you then? You couldn’t know the answer to that.

It was probably best to actually agree with his viewpoint for the time being. To just appreciate the chances given in the here and now. None of you could know what the future had in store for anyone or anything, not anymore.

You were already right in front of him as you ran your fingers along the back of his neck. You held him there briefly, then pulling him in to initiate the first kiss, before he met you eagerly with another.

One of your hands stayed in his hair, the other splayed down onto his chest. After a moment, you realized you could feel his own heartbeat through the thin t-shirt. So very fast, like everything else about him before you felt him grabbing at your hips.

He was trying to get you pulled more into his lap as he shifted his legs to make room. You let him, but there was something slightly funny as you still had to help to not knock into his broken leg when he had trouble moving it in the way he really wanted.

But he could feel your smile against his lips. He pulled back enough to respond, your foreheads touching. “You just wait until that damn thing is off. I’ll be ten times as suave then.”

“I’m not complaining.” You laughed softly. Maybe even a little glad that he did have that handicap to slow him down right now. Though you quieted again when you felt him move down to nip at your neck, before he kissed it a little more roughly.

When you tensed a little, he paused. You could hear the tease in his voice. “Don’t worry, I won’t leave any hickies. Scout’s honor.” He knew you still cared about appearances to some degree, that and the privacy to not show off all of what you’d done in front of the others. “But you ever had one?” He asked anyway.

“No.” You answered without hesitation. You didn’t feel any need to pretend with him.

He pulled back a little again at that though, enough that you could look at each other and you wondered if he was finding this hard to believe.

“But you’ve had boyfriends right?” He asked, before considering a little more. “Or maybe girlfriends? I mean, I’m cool with either just for the record. We get discriminated on enough as it is to bother being worried about what side of the fence anybody is playing on.” He smiled, rubbing his hand down your side. “If I’m going to like someone, I’m going to like them for them. Everything else is just bonus.”

You’d never really thought about it to be honest. If you were attracted to someone, you just were. But it sounded like he was of similar thinking, which was nice. “I haven’t really had anybody.” You answered. “I’ve been at the school since I was pretty young. And you just end up seeing them all as family I guess.”

His eyebrows raised and he hesitated a while, before finally speaking again a little bit carefully. “So...please don’t punch me, but um, does that mean you haven’t...you know?” He didn’t seem like he could say it. Or that maybe he was actually afraid of offending you all of the sudden. Which would be a first.

But just because you were inexperienced, that didn’t mean you were naive. And it was awkward, but not frightening. You weren’t afraid to talk to him this way. “I haven’t had sex, no.” You responded plainly, but did have a little concern on him possibly panicking as you made sure to clarify. “And I’m not a minor. This would have been my senior year and then some I guess if you compare our class levels to normal high school grades.” But Xavier’s school was still a little different. “Or maybe it’d be more like freshman year of college.”

Peter took a breath. “I mean, yeah I figured you were legal. Good to confirm, but um, you realize this means you have no idea if you should have waited for someone better or not?”

He was getting self conscious again. You’d already been through this before. Where he acted as if you were making a mistake just to choose him. You tried to turn this back around. “It doesn’t matter to me who you’ve already been with. And yes, I might be inexperienced, but you’ve got to trust me that I’m capable of choosing who I want now.”

You could still sense him wavering, but he at least didn’t lock up to the point of not answering. He was trying to fall back on a little humor, his go to. “Well it’s not like I’ve been all around either. It was really just one, but you know, a good bit of practice there.” Though as soon as he said it that way, he seemed to regret it, trying to explain further. “I mean, she didn’t give two shits about me in the end. I thought she did. But I didn’t use her, it was more the other way around. At least in my view.”

You quieted, that new spill of information you felt signaling a much deeper story under the surface. And he seemed really nervous as if he hadn’t intended to bring up this subject at all. “It’s okay.” You answered quickly. “Like I said, the past is the past. It doesn’t affect what I feel about you. But if you want to get something else off your chest right now, my time is yours.”

And he did want to talk. You could tell he did. Like this was something he never could speak of normally. He seemed surprised at his own self as the name finally did come out. “Her name was Crystal.” But he still tightened his grip on you even as he kept on. “Back when I was still in high school outside D.C., she’d started there. Her family was always moving, I don’t know why. But I guess because she was new she didn’t know the whole hierarchy shit, where I was on the bottom with the other weirdos always in detention. And she figured out I had powers, she did too. I’d never met anyone my age that did. We started hanging out, and before you know it I’d be speeding to her house and all at night. My Mom never knew. Wanda did, but I think she saw the fuck up coming and decided to let me figure it out for myself.”

You felt no jealousy to the confession. Genuinely you were only listening, knowing these details only gave you a more complete picture of him. Who he was now and why.

“I’d never gotten attention like that before you know? You start thinking it’s real and you get carried away. And I’m not saying she was manipulative or any stupid crap like that. She wasn’t. She just wanted to fool around with somebody, wanted to feel good. But it probably shouldn’t have been with me is what I mean. Not for that long anyway just to cut me off at the knees when she was ready to move on again.”

So she’d just wanted a physical relationship. While Peter had misunderstood it to be more, and had had to suffer for it when the truth finally showed. You could understand how that would be extremely painful. Especially if it was the first real intimacy he’d ever had.

He kept on though, likely something very cathartic in finally getting to let go of all this. “And we had a huge blow up in the end. When she’d started sleeping with someone else. I probably said some stuff I shouldn’t have, I mean she was never mine to be mad about I guess. But she was no pushover. She told me to fuck right off, and I never went back. I quit going to school and they moved away again eventually. So that was the end of that.”

Then that was likely the real reason he never finished school you realized, not just because of boredom with it or any lack of ability on his own part. It was sad, but you didn’t see him as anyone to be pitied. He’d survived that negative experience to still be here with you now.

And you couldn’t take those old scars away, but you could at least make sure you didn’t leave any room for miscommunication now. You could let him know exactly what he had in you, to take or leave as he wished. Because nothing could work here either unless you both were on the same page.

“Well I can tell you that you will never just be a hookup for me. I mean, yes, I might not be as satisfying I guess, not knowing all about this. But, I’m attracted to you. Not your body, not your powers, just you. I want to be together until you decide otherwise.” You smiled, calling back a bit to his words in Egypt. “Together exclusively until I annoy you or you get bored of me.”

He laughed, unable to help himself. “And I still don’t deserve it.” He insisted, but agreed anyway. “Exclusive is good, no other guys or girls. Just us annoying the hell out of each other until the end.” He then nuzzled his head back against your neck, continuing. “I’ll be slightly more behaved too I guess. Now that I know it’ll be your first time, it can’t just be in an aircraft carrier broom closet or some crap after all. I’ll try to think of something a little more romantic in the meantime.”

“Gee thanks.” You smirked, before kissing him lightly again. There was still oh so much trouble to look forward to it sounded like.

He leaned into the kiss, trying to taste you as much as you’d let him. But you thought you could still feel him smiling a little too, before another sound went off in your brains.

“All of you, they’re asking us to clear the flight deck as they have a pair of helicopters trying to come back in from patrol.” The Professor’s voice was a bit impersonal, the way it could be when he was essentially copying the same message to multiple minds one after the other.

“And that would be the bell,” Peter sighed. “Recess over.”

You were a little disappointed too, but there was still tonight after all. “There’s still the bunk later,” You reminded at that, standing up and offering him your hand.

He grabbed it, quickly pulling himself up before leaning in to kiss you one more time. “That a promise?”

“Maybe.” You answered, handing him his crutches.

“Tease.” He countered with a smirk, before you both started walking back towards the others.

It’d be one more night in close quarters, and then on to the long trip home tomorrow.

——————————

(Continued in next chapter here)

#quicksilver x oc #quicksilver x y/n #quicksilver x you #quicksilver x reader #quicksilver #peter maximoff x oc #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff x y/n #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff #x men #xmen #xmen fanfiction #xmen fic

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rora-s · 4 years ago

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The Derivative Chapter 8: Sports

Chapter 1 <- Chapter 7

“Do I even need to ask?” David snapped. Uncle Charlie just smiled smugly turning his hand around. The entire table groaned in annoyance.

“It’s not what it looks like, promise” Don spoke up.

“You brother hustling us?” one of Don’s friends Mike muttered.

“I’ve only played once before” Charlie informed as they collected the cards to deal another round of poker. “I actually have a one in eight chance of hitting a set when I’m holding a pocket pair. I’m about 50/50 to draw a flush with suited cards in my hand, two off the draw. I also count my outs I- I multiply by two. I add one. That’s roughly my percentage of hitting.” he explained.

“Card math” I muttered over my father’s shoulder as I walked past the table. Leaning over to snag some chips out of the snack bowl.

“Mr. Eppes you need to take my seat, your son is killing us” David declared as Alan brought out more chips.

“No, not me” Gramps objected “the only other time Charlie played, I learned my lesson about gambling with a mathematician”

“Hey could I-”

“No” Don cut me off “Ms. I-can’t-help-but-card-count”

“Not my fault I was born with perfect visual memory” I muttered as my father got up and headed to the kitchen.

“Hey weren’t we playing with bottle caps?” Charlie pointed out to his father.

“Yeah or else you’d have walked away with the pink slip to my car” Alan informed.

“You know, there is some element of chance here” Charlie explained “you know I- I may just be getting lucky.”

“Or you're just unlucky,” David joked to Mike.

“That’s funny Sinclair keep that up. It comes back to me when baseball starts” Mike countered taking a swig of his beer as dad returned and handed me a Mountain Dew as he sat down with his glass of water.

“Baseball?” Charlie questioned “”the FBI have a team?”

“Yeah, we got a whole league.” David explained “there’s, uh, LAPD, Sheriffs’ department”

“D.A.’s got the killer squad” Mike commented “Now that Kraft’s in San Diego, you guys don’t have a power hitter.”

“What about Don?” Charlie suggested.

“It’s not my thing” Don objected

“Oh, you play?” Mike inquired.

“Don went to college on a baseball scholarship,” Charlie informed. “What are you talking about? You played pro second base.”

“Single A about a million years ago” Don muttered.

“That’s great. It means you’re this year’s ringer.” Mike grumbled.

“Nope. I’m sorry.” Don objected quickly “not interest buddy”

“Come on, you gotta do it” David asked hopefully as Don’s phone rang.

“Excuse me” he murmured to us answering it. “Eppes… we’ll be right there” he declared, getting to his feet.

I sighed and shuffled back toward the kitchen where Alan was. “Looks like I’m spending the night,” I informed.

He looked up at me confused “really? Why?”

Just then Don popped into the doorway pulling on a jacket “hey dad I just got called in can she stay here tonight?”

I gave my grandfather a look who sighed “yes of course”

“Thanks,” Don murmured heading out.

______________

3rd POV.

“I’ve never seen him before,” Mr. Bayle declared, handing Don back the photo of Salazar.

“Are you sure?” the agent asked.

“Yeah” the man confirmed.

“I mean, maybe he did some work for you guys around here.” Don persisted.

“Yeah, he could have. I wouldn’t know” Bayle explained “Lisa was in charge of all that.”

“I’m just trying to figure out if there’s any possibility that this man knew your wife.” Don insisted as they stepped from the other man’s kitchen into his living room.

“Why?” Bayle inquired with a shrug as he stopped to face Don.

“You’re not going to want to hear this” Don prefaced reluctantly “but there are some questions about Cliff Howard’s conviction”

“The bastard said he did it,” Bayle scoffed.

“I know,” Don nodded.

“I haven’t seen you in a year” Bayle continued “I haven’t seen you since you interrogated me for 48 hours.”

“Sir..” Don tried to speak up but the other man continued.

“I had to call the funeral home handcuffed to a table.”

“I was pursuing your wife’s murder wherever it took me” Don attempted to explain his actions. “So help me..” he paused shaking his head and biting his lip and Bayle took the moment to speak again.

“Now you want to tear these wounds open again.”

“I don’t want to do that,” Don objected adamantly.

Both men paused to breathe and Don’s eyes wandered over to the mantel where he spotted a picture he recognized he shuffled over to point at it “that’s your, uh, your daughter. What’s her name? Paula?” he asked, trying to remember.

“Yes” Jonas answered, his voice still tense with emotion.

“Right. May I?” Don gestured to the photo.

“Go ahead,” Bayle allowed. Don took the photo from the mantel and looked at the young girl. “She’s a sophomore now.”

“Yeah, so is my daughter,” Don admitted.

“You have a daughter?” Jonas asked, surprised.

Don nodded “her names Abby.” he chuckled slightly with a bittersweet spike in his gut “yeah she came to live with me not too long ago after her mother died, car crash”

“I’m sorry” Bayle murmured, shifting on his feet.

Don replaced the photo and turned to face the other man. “Jonas, don’t you want to know the truth about your wife’s death?”

“Cliff Howard is the truth,” Bayle insisted.

______________

Abby POV.

“Okay tell me I’m crazy” Larry declared, setting his pencil down and rubbing his face with his hands. “I think I’ve just found a way to express Calabi-Yau manifolds in a way that goes beyond the existence of a nonvanishing harmonic spinor.”

“You're crazy,” I muttered, taking another bite of my food.

“Ch- Charles” Larry whined when he received no response from his fellow mathematician.

“Has he been out there all night?” Uncle C questioned turning away from the window he had been gazing out of. Watching my father play basketball.

“Well, on the bright side it seems like Don’s taken up an interest in sports again.” Alan commented.

Charlie sighed taking the seat next to me “it’s like the evidence proves him right and wrong at the same time”

“Oh, yeah, the old paradox of Schroedinger’s cat.” Larry murmured.

“Is that that persian that keeps hiding out in our garage?” Alan inquired.

“No, that's the Myers down the street’s cat” I muttered, taking a sip of my drink.

“It’s an intellectual exercise,” Charlie explained.

“I knew that,” Alan lied.

“Okay this is vastly simplified” Larry prompted “there’s a cat in a box. 50/50 chance it’s been poisoned, but now here’s the paradox: until such time as we can open the box and observe the cat, for that time, that cat is both alive and dead.”

“Larry I-I fail to see the analogy, though.” Charlie objected “I mean, in reality Don can’t be both right and wrong at the same time.”

“Well, of course not.” Alan chimed in “I mean, if a man is both right and wrong, then something’s gotta be wrong.”

“Positive and a negative equal a negative?” I scoffed.

“No. the truth of Schroedinger’s cat is that the question itself is meaningless until we look inside the box.” Larry informed.

“So you could ask a whole different question” I voiced.

“For a whole different result” Larry finished. Uncle Charlie immediately straightened and turned to look at the window again. Before getting up and heading outside after his brother. “Well and off he goes again to help solve the unjust of the world”

“You can always tell when he gets an idea he spaces out then runs” I muttered.

Larry hummed in agreement “you know you are quite insightful young enigma quite like your uncle I’m surprised you’ve yet to push ahead of your peers in academia like he so did”

“Oh here we go” Alan muttered.

“Well I’ve tried they won’t put me in advanced classes because I wasn’t in school consistently as a kid.” I explained.

“Well that’s absurd a brilliant mind shouldn’t be held back by the amount of desks they haven’t sat at or lectures they’ve witnessed” Larry voiced in annoyance.

“Preaching to the choir,” I told him.

“Yes but do me a favor and don’t get on the soap box of yours again” Gramps asked me.

I nodded in agreement and picked at the last bits of food on my plate. “You know what?” Larry spoke up causing me and Alan to look at him but his eyes were trained on me “you should attend CalSci once you’ve escaped high school. We have no such requirements if you show the aptitude”

“I don’t know I’m still looking at quite a bit of time being forced to look at this stuff in school let alone do I want to keep having to do school work beyond it.” I pointed out.

“No no no” Larry objected waving his hands “it’s not like that at CalSci you can learn what you want and gain knowledge and work to gather more knowledge of the universe itself with a very hands on approach”

I sighed finishing off my dinner and gathered my dishes. “I’ll think about it”

“Very well” Larry accepted the answer as I stood up.

“You done?” Alan asked.

“Yeah” I murmured, taking my dishes into the kitchen. I glanced out the window and spotted my Uncle joining my father in his basketball playing. I loved basketball. The one sport I was decent at. As I watched my mind different back to just shortly before I went to live with my father here.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~

3rd POV.

“Yo Calvin” Abby looked up from where she was sitting with her back to a wall in the courtyard book in hand. A girl named Naomi was looking at her from the basketball court with the ball tucked under her arm. Other girls around her were glancing in Abby’s direction and muttering to each other. “We need a even number get over here”

Abby hesitated. Veronica was standing on the court eyeing her with the same hate in her eyes. However after one of her accomplices came over and whispered in her ear she nodded her agreement with the situation.

Abby sighed and closed her book getting up and heading to the court. “‘ight y’all line up me and V will choose the teams,” Naomi declared.

Abby stood in line with the seven other girls they had goated into playing with them. Veronica stuck to choosing her pals and Naomi was smart enough not to choose them but Veronica only had three friends and Abby ended up being the last one on the line as Naomi chose the girl next to her.

“Calvin and V on the same team” one of the girls on Naomi’s team voiced “this’ll be interesting.”

Abby scoffed and took her position on the court. “Hey bookworm don’t get in the way” Veronica snapped.

“Then stay out of mine” Abby shrugged. Veronica shot her a glare as the other girls jeered.

“Hey let’s play” Naomi called everyone’s attention.

The game started out easy. Naomi had the ball and was heading down the court. Abby intercepted her snagging the ball easily and heading down the court when she was slammed in the side hitting the ground. Veronica had the ball now and shot it into the hoop.

“Hey!” Abby yelled getting back to her feet “thought we were on the same team”

“Thought I said stay out of my way” Veronica retaliated coming up to get Abby’s face.

“Hey knock it off” Naomi pushed between the girls “either play or leave and sort your shit out the way you normally do and land in the infirmary”

“You telling me what to do, china?” Veronica snarled at Naomi.

Naomi shifted back a bit “I’m actually Korean not that it matters but what I’m trying to do is play some basketball. Now you two can go duke it out if you want at least it’ll keep the teams even”

Veronica scoffed “whatever” she stalked back onto the court.

Abby sighed and followed the game started up again and Abby barely touched the ball as it was passed from player to player. Until it got to a point where they had five minutes left of courtyard time and Naomi’s team was up by one.

“We need to score. You beat Naomi at ball, that's a serious brag even with dead weights like Harp and Richards on her team” Veronica’s lacky Fiona stated.

“Yeah well we aren’t going to if Veronica tries to score again” Abby muttered to the rest of the huddle.

“You saying I can’t shoot Calvin?” Veronica turned to her angry.

“No I’m saying our entire strategy has been geared to give you glory this entire time and they’ve figured that out” Abby explained “that’s why they’ve blocked our last five attempts.”

“What? You want us to pass it to you?” Veronica asked “that ain’t how that works Calvin”

“I don’t care who you pass it to” Abby shrugged “you just gotta pass it”

Veronica thought about it a moment “Alright Fi you take it” she declared. “Let’s go”

“Okay” Fiona muttered, sounding unsure.

The game started and Naomi’s team got the ball dribbling down the court. Veronica intercepted as Abby and Fiona headed down opposite sides of the court. Veronica looked to pass it and saw Naomi guarding Fiona who was looking less than confident. Then she saw Calvin raise her hand. She was completely open. No one expected Veronica to pass the ball to the one girl she beat up every other day.

Veronica passed the ball. Abby caught it easy and dribbled it a step before shooting it circled the hoop before dropping in to the cheers of the team.

“Alright ladies time to get inside” one of the matron’s called from the door the girls shuffled to the door Naomi scooping the ball.

“Nice shot Calvin” Naomi told her, shoving her shoulder as she passed.

Abby grabbed her book and headed inside. She was heading down the hall at a casual pace before she was pinned to the wall. Veronica had her collar. “That was a one time thing you got that?”

Abby blinked at the other girl “really? You're so insecure about your status you have to make that point?” she asked with every ounce of sass she could muster.

Veronica growled and threw her to the floor Abby got on her feet and shoved Veronica’s middle. The bigger girl pushed her away and soon they were grabbing at each other pulling hair and scratching. Soon someone was there to pull them apart.

“Why do any of us expect different of those two?” Abby heard Naomi mutter to Fiona as Abby and Veronica were led to the infirmary.

~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_~_

Abby POV.

“Bye Uncle Charlie” I called from the shade as the mathematician peeled off the fence of the batting cages and headed back to his car.

“Bye Abbs” Charlie replied with a wave. I glanced over at my father as another crack of baseball on bat sounded. He was really starting to get into a rhythm, a proud smile on his face. I smiled lightly and returned to my reading. However there was only a moment of peace before Don appeared grabbing his water bottle and taking a swig.

“You want to take a few whacks?” He asked, gesturing to the batting cage.

I shot another look over at the ball spitter. “Uh no thanks I’ve never really..” I trailed off gesturing at the cage with an implied statement and apathetic wave.

Don looked at the cage then back at me with a small amount of shock evident in his face. “You’ve never played baseball before?” He asked in disbelief.

“Maybe once in gym class” I shrugged answering honestly. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed Donald but I’m kinda on the nerd side of things”

Don scoffed. “Come on” he grabbed my book and much to my relief remembered to put the bookmark in its place before closing it. “No daughter of mine is going to go through life without playing baseball”

I scoffed as I was pulled to my feet and given a helmet. I would normally put up a bit more of a fight but I knew that this sport meant a lot to him. So I kept my remarks to myself and went along with it. We headed out to the cage. He showed me what position to take. How to hold the bat properly and watch the ball.

Even with his coaching it took a while before I actually hit the ball. When I did it was quite auspicious to us both. Despite it not going anywhere near where we wanted it to go. There was a lot of laughing and joking and we both left happy reliving the events in story with some subtle elaborations. Don excited to take me back some time.

Chapter 9 ->

#Don Eppes #Charlie Eppes #Alan Eppes #Larry Fleinhardt #amita ramanujan #Terry Lake #David Sinclair #Numb3rs #numb3rs season 1 #don has a daughter #Episode Related #episode per chapter #also on quotev #Also posted on AO3

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amyscascadingtabs · 5 years ago

Text

i’ll walk through hell with you

chapter 7. i’m gonna stand by you

read on ao3 here and read other chapter here!

the happy ending.

BONUS: i created fake social media posts for this! they’re here, look at them after or have them open in another window! you’ll get when it’s time - there are two instagram posts and a text conversation with rosa.

and when you decide, it’s your time to arrive

i’ve loved you for all of my life.

~ halsey, more

december.

Once Amy starts trusting that she is pregnant and the obsessive test-taking comes to an end, there’s the question of when to start telling people. There’s also the question of what to tell them.

“It just feels like I’m faking it,” she complains from the couch as she tries to write down ideas in her notebook. “It’s happy news, but it feels wrong to not even mention what we went through before getting here.”

“So tell people about it?” Jake shrugs, handing her the McFlurry she sent him out at ten p.m. to buy. “That's always an option.”

“I know, but how? How do I say hey, please be happy for us, but know that we went through hell to get here, without being overly dramatic or too personal?” She takes a spoon of the soft-serve, chewing on the mini smarties, and tries to stifle a moan when it feels like fireworks of pleasure are exploding in her mouth. “Oh my god, I love you.”

“Me or the ice cream? Never mind, shouldn't ask.”

“It's so good.”

“Can I try some?”

“You should have gotten your own.”

“You would have eaten that too,” he grins, taking his spot at one end of the couch and stretching his legs. “But I'm proud of you. McDonalds is at least an unhealthy craving. Grapes was just lame. You have the chance to eat whatever you want and blame it on pregnancy cravings, and you want grapes.”

She sticks out her tongue. “Screw you. Anyway - thoughts on a pregnancy reveal?”

“We make our own Die Hard-style short film with explosions and animations, the end slate says something like Peraltiago Baby number two, coming in June. Super badass.”

“Nope. We write everyone cards?”

“Lame and time-consuming. We have an announcement at work and one each with our families?”

“Maybe, but I still don’t know what to say.”

“We tell Leah and trust her to spread the news for us?”

“We definitely should tell her first, but counting on her to spread the news means they’re going to get twisted in some way. Remember when we went on vacation and she told all her teachers we were moving to Mexico?” Amy shakes her head. “It’s better if we say it ourselves. I don’t think I’m ready yet, though.”

“Okay,” Jake nods. “Let’s wait, then. Are you sure I can’t have any of that ice cream?”

“Not unless you want your hand chopped off.”

“Wow.”

Amy wishes they could hold off on telling people until she was sure she felt ready, but reality is quick to get in the way. The first-trimester nausea finally gets better around week thirteen, and suddenly the weight gain is a fact. She doesn’t mind it too much - she’s growing a human, all that matters is that they’re healthy - but it does make it increasingly difficult to hide. A size bigger uniform for work is easily solved and conceals the tiny bump rather well, but regular clothes are not as efficient. Her bras don't fit, her regular jeans won’t button, even the most flowy of shirts in her wardrobe seem to cling to the slightly rounded shape her stomach is taking. She’s running out of time.

With two days left until they're leaving to celebrate Christmas with the Santiagos, Amy realizes she has to give up. She's tried every possible outfit, considered whether she can just wear pajamas for the duration of the event, and very reluctantly accepted that it’s a bad idea. She's out of options. Both of her red dresses are too tight, she doesn't have any bras that work with anything sleeveless, and even the tasteful floral wrap dress she was hoping for manages to frame her bump in an obvious way. She tries on several blouses with a generous skirt, but it's still notable to the trained eye and her mom had eight kids. Amy’s screwed.

“This doesn't work,” she groans as she pulls off the blouse, throwing it on the growing no-pile. “I look stupid.”

“You look adorable,” Jake insists from his watching position on the bed. “I’d say go with the wrap dress.”

“It’s nice, but it shows off this.” She points demonstratively to her stomach, watching his eyes turn soft as he follows her hand. “This baby’s not hiding. I think we have to tell people.”

“Do you feel okay with that?”

She considers it for a moment. “I guess? I still don’t know what to say about the infertility stuff, but… I’ll figure that out.”

“It’s not like you have to make an official announcement, right? You could tell people privately, whenever you’re ready - if you want to.”

“That’s true. Maybe... it’s okay if we just enjoy these news?” She shrugs. “We are having another baby. That’s awesome. Seems fair for the world to know.”

Jake meets her tentative smile with a wide, goofy grin. “True that. So, how do we tell everyone? We’re not seeing the squad again until after Christmas.”

“We could take a cute picture with Leah and post it on social media? I know it’s cheesy, and a little impersonal, but it’s efficient and I can’t be bothered to plan an announcement.”

“I could totally work that Die Hard short film out -”

“No Die Hard.”

Jake grimaces. “Fine, fine. Your way, then. So, cute picture of Leah in a big sister-shirt?”

“Yeah, and she could be holding the latest sonogram pictures? And some short, sweet caption with that. We’ll think of something until tomorrow - that, and another thing.”

“What?”

“We have to tell her.”

Amy is, of course, overly prepared. She’s bought the pedagogical children’s books. She’s researched and taken notes on all the recommendations for how to manage the conversation and explain the matter in a way her three-year-old will understand. She’s made sure Leah’s not too tired, too hungry, or too grumpy for any other reason. Still, she’s never felt less prepared for a conversation with her kid, and she’s anxious as they take a break from playing with her toy dinosaurs - who either seem to run a bakery or catch criminals, or if it’s both, Amy can’t tell - to drink some water and subtly reveal the life-changing news.

Jake must pick up on her nervosity, because he’s the one to start the conversation.

“So, bumblebee,” he ruffles his daughter’s hair and laughs as she immediately pats it down again, “We’ve got something to tell you. A surprise, I guess.”

Leah shines up at the word surprise. “What?”

“Do you remember how miss Edwards at your daycare had a baby?” Amy tries to lead her on to the topic. “And her belly grew and got really big, and then she wasn’t at work for a while because she was at home taking care of the baby?”

Leah scrunches her forehead and pouts her lip in focus, but she nods.

“And you know how your cousin Maisie has a little brother, and Sarah and Samuel are getting a baby sibling soon?”

Another nod.

“Okay. Well, baby,” she says slowly, but her heart is beating fast. “You’re also getting a sibling.”

Leah looks around, as if the sibling in question would be hiding in her room somewhere.

“Oh, no, not today,” Amy adds, and the girl frowns.

“When?”

“This summer,” Jake fills in, “when it gets warm outside and you don’t have to wear a jacket anymore.”

“But where’s the baby now?”

“Right now the baby’s in here.” Amy pokes at the tiny bump, and Leah tilts her head as she tries to piece it all together. “It’s small, but it will grow, and then you can talk to it or feel it kick in there, if you want.”

“And when the baby comes out and grow bigger, they’re going to think you’re the coolest person ever and want to play with you all the time,” says Jake, catching Leah in his arms and tickling her neck so she giggles. “You two will have so much fun.”

“Like Anna and Elsa?”

“Well, we don’t know if it’s a sister or brother yet, but yeah. Like Anna and Elsa.”

“Okay!” Leah’s expression turns serious. “But I’m Elsa.”

Amy laughs. “Of course, baby, you can be Elsa.”

Leah accepts this, and insists they keep playing the dinosaur game which remains incomprehensible to everyone but her.

“I think that went pretty well,” Jake mumbles to Amy, and she nods, relieved.

“Dada?” Leah looks up from the dinosaurs.

“Yes, bee?”

“How did the baby get into mama’s tummy?”

Amy has never seen her husband look so uncomfortable before. His face goes from normal to beetroot in a matter of seconds as his eyes go wide, and she’s trying not to explode with laughter as she looks from Jake’s mortified expression to Leah’s curious eyes.

“We’ll read a book about that later,” Amy assures her daughter while Jake mumbles something about a very important call from the Captain as he looks at his blank phone screen and hurries out of the room. “I promise.”

Leah doesn’t seem particularly interested in changing from her Frozen-shirt or taking pictures with the sonogram print-outs she claims looks like a fish, mama, but then Jake promises her ice cream for dessert if she does and it’s a done deal. She tires after thirty seconds and she refuses to hold the pictures in any other way than in front of her face, but they get the shot and it’s good enough. It has to be, because only a minute later, their three-year-old has thrown off the sweatshirt and changed back into her t-shirt.

Amy types up the caption, presses share, and puts her phone in front of them on the kitchen table.

“Now we wait for Charles to call and yell at us for keeping this from him,” she states, and Jake snorts. “I’m betting four minutes.”

“I’m going to go with three.”

It takes one and a half.

It’s a great Christmas.

Sure, everyone is asking the same questions and she explains over and over that she’s feeling okay, better now that she’s in her second trimester, she doesn’t have any intuition as to what they’re having but Jake’s claiming it’s a boy, they’re excited, and they’re pretty sure Leah is, too. She clenches her fists underneath the table when her mom mentions how wonderful it is with a big family, how lovely it is that Amy and Jake finally decided to expand theirs, and she can see Jake do the same as he gets ready to defend her - their - honor, but she shakes her head and changes the topic before he has a chance.

She doesn’t want to be upset today.

There’s no point to being angry with her family all around. Not when Julian high-fives her and tells her good for her she keeps reproducing with those Peralta genes, not when Christian gives them actual useful tips on how to adjust from one to two kids. There’s no point in being upset when her brothers wives all tell her she can borrow maternity wear if she wants, or when Jake makes note of the mistletoe above their heads and kisses her so long and reverent that both Tony and Simon start wolf-whistling. There’s no point to being sad when Leah pulls at the edge of Amy’s dress, asking to go up, up, and Luis takes a picture of Amy and Jake kissing their daughter’s cheeks under the mistletoe.

She’s just happy.

She feels quick little flutters in her stomach throughout the day, a feeling she vaguely recognizes from the first times she felt Leah move inside her. They’re gone before she has the chance to lay a hand there, but she feels them.

Leah insists on sleeping in her parent’s shared bed that night, and even though it’s barely a queen-size and they’re all forced to huddle together with the three-year-old somehow taking up the most space, they give in. Jake and Leah both fall asleep in what seems like seconds, and Amy wants to join them, but her brain refuses. It’s not that she’s feeling anxious - her heart is so full from today, made fuller by her daughter’s face pressing into her shoulder and Jake’s hand reaching across her so he can rest it on the little bump - but there are some things she can’t stop thinking about.

Her mom’s comment about them finally deciding to expand their family, for example. All the congratulatory wishes streaming in after the picture - even Holt messaged them to give his well-wishes - that she can't fully take to heart, because no one sending them knows what she's gone through. She thinks of the shame and disappointment she’s felt throughout this year, of how much it would have hurt her to see a sweet announcement like this from someone else when she’d just had a miscarriage or another negative test. She wants to be honest - not just for her own sake, but also for the sake of a possible acquaintance out there who could be going through the same thing, feeling equally as alone in it as she did.

Amy grabs her phone from the nightstand, smiling at the mistletoe picture she's made her background, and tries out a few captions in the Notes app before settling on one.

She turns off the comments before anyone can react, not feeling like she needs anyone’s thoughts on this, and she's about to put her phone away again when she sees a single text from Rosa.

Proud of you.

Amy smiles.

She's just about to fall asleep when she feels the brief flutters again. This time, they don’t disappear right away, but repeat until she's certain of what they are.

She can't feel them from the outside yet, but she rests her hand below Jake's anyway, letting the reason behind the flutters know she's there.

“Hey there,” she whispers, lightly tapping her fingers against her abdomen. “Merry Christmas to you too, baby.”

The next little movement is right below her fingertips, and this time she can't stop herself from tearing up with joy.

february.

Everyone’s convinced Jake and Amy are having a boy. Jake claims he can feel it, and Amy believes him. She’s a Santiago, and two girls in a row are more or less unheard of in her family. Charles claims he can tell because of the position of her uterus, which grosses everyone out, but a vote is a vote. Rosa’s saying boy, as is Terry, as is Gina, as are all of Amy’s brothers and her parents. Karen Peralta invites them for dinner and talks for at least twenty minutes about how excited she is to have a grandson before Jake dutifully reminds her they don’t know the sex yet, and she waves it away and says she thought it was obvious.

The only person who doesn’t believe they’re having a boy is Leah. From the first time anyone asks, the three-year-old declares with absolute certainty that she’s having a sister, and doesn’t change her mind. Amy’s nervous about how they’ll manage the inevitable disappointment and tries to write down a pedagogical conversation plan in her head as they go for the anatomy scan, but she ends up never having to use it. It turns out Leah’s correct.

“So you’re going to be just like Anna and Elsa,” Jake tells her as he’s putting her to bed that evening. Amy’s secretly listening in on their conversation through the baby monitor - modern technology is the best. “How does that make you feel?”

She can see Leah holding up her hand on the little screen, doing what she thinks must be a thumbs up. Then her tone turns serious again.

“Dada, how did the baby get inside the tummy?”

“Uhm, didn’t you and mama read that book about it?”

“Tell it again,” Leah insists.

“Okay, okay. Cool, cool, cool. This is cool, Jake, you can handle this,” Amy hears her husband mumble to himself.

“What?”

“Nothing, bee, here we go. So, sometimes, when two people who are adults and love each other a lot, they decide they want to try and make a baby. So they take a part - cells, you remember? From both of them, and those, well, stick together? I guess. And sometimes that becomes a little baby that grows inside a mom’s tummy until it’s big and ready to come out.”

It’s pretty much an accurate description. Amy’s proud of him, but Leah doesn’t seem satisfied.

“But how do they take it?”

“You’ll learn about that when you’re older, bumblebee.”

“Like algebra?”

“Who told you about algebra?”

“Grandpa Holt.”

“That tracks. Ehrm, sure. Like… algebra.” Amy can see him grimace from a distance on the screen. “We’ll go with that. Anyway - all you need to know is that everytime it works, it’s a miracle. You were our first miracle.”

“Miracle,” Leah repeats, yawning. “Dada, can you sing now?”

Amy hears Jake take a deep breath of relief before he begins to sing the Tangled soundtrack.

“I’ll give it to you,” she tells him when he slinks into their bedroom ten minutes later, red in the face when she points to the baby monitor and he realizes she's been listening. “That was impressive.”

“You owe me big time,” he groans, slumping down on the mattress next to her, and she chuckles and kisses his forehead.

“Algebra, huh? Could you replace my X without asking Y?”

“If you had used that pick-up line on me, I literally never would have slept with you.”

april.

Leah's feelings about becoming a big sister are fluctuating to say the least. Some days, she'll ask how the baby is doing and press her hands to the ever growing bump, laughing when she's able to feel a kick. Some days she doesn't want to talk about it at all, and they make sure not to force it on her. Some days - and those days are the ones that break Amy's heart - she's angry, shutting Amy out and wanting only Jake to take care of her because she's not sure how to handle the fact that her mom looks different and is tired and can't pick her up like she used to. It's after one of those days Amy has her first breakdown about feeling like she's not enough for two kids, that she was stupid to think she ever could be, and maybe this was a bad idea. She cries under a blanket as Jake puts Leah to bed because Amy wasn't allowed to, and there's a series of soft kicks like her baby’s trying to comfort her, but it only serves to make her more out of breath. Her eyes are all puffy and red when the door to Leah's bedroom opens and the girl peeks out, giving her a cautious look before tiptoeing out to the couch, climbing into her mother's arms and burying her face in her chest.

“I don't want to be a big sister,” Leah confesses in a quiet voice. “I want to be little, too.”

“You're always going to be my little baby,” Amy promises her in full honesty then, hugging the girl as close as she can. “Forever.”

Other days, it's easier. They try to keep her involved as much as she wants to, letting her choose what outfit they’re bringing in the hospital bag and asking her opinion on where she thinks the crib should be. The girl definitely has an interesting taste in baby fashion and Amy ends up vetoing the suggestion that her little sister should go home from the hospital in a baby Santa suit, but as long as Leah feels she's been part of the decision-making, it’s good. One night, they go through photo albums of what she looked like when she was a baby, making the three-year-old proudly exclaim that she was so cute.

“You really were,” Jake agrees, catching her in his arms and tickling her. “You think your baby sibling will be as cute as you were?”

Leah just shakes her head at that, making them all laugh.

“Well, she sure is confident,” says Jake when he returns from putting her to bed, finding Amy still looking through the albums. “Crazy to think she used to be that tiny.”

“Even crazier to think we'll have another one that little, and one day they’ll be a three-year-old, too.” She lightly strokes the top of her bump, feeling a sharp kick way too close to her ribs.

“So many levels of crazy.” Jake shakes his head in bewilderment. “I wonder when you get used to the thought.”

“Never?” Amy shrugs. “Sometimes I still think this is a dream.” There’s another strong kick at that, making her flinch. “Oof. Fine, very real dream.”

It takes her a while to fall asleep that night, with her thoughts and a wildly moving baby helping to keep her awake for longer than she’d prefer. She thinks of how they’re nearing a year since they started fertility treatments, when she fought through the needles and bloating and hormonal chaos because she was praying for something to finally work, and she wonders what her reaction would have been if someone had told her about what she’d go through in the next months.

The events of their struggle to have another baby and her eventual spontaneous pregnancy feel entirely separate in her head, two roads not intersecting. She’s still bitter over their struggle, still wishing she could have saved her energy and frustration, still trying to forget it more days than not. The infinite gratitude she feels over the fact that they are having another child hasn’t erased those memories. It’s mitigated the pain, made the flashbacks much less frequent and helped her towards acceptance, but Amy knows part of her will always remember.

In an odd sense, she’s happy about it. It reminds her it was never a guarantee.

may.

The cat plans have been put on pause indefinitely, but it doesn’t keep Jake from bringing the topic up. One day, he’s coming home with onesies that have patterns with cats on them or a stuffed animal that looks like one, one day he’s leaving web pages with sources for why it’s good for kids to grow up with cats open on her computer, and another day, he’s coming with new name suggestions from what seems to be out of nowhere.

“So for baby names, I was originally thinking Benjamin, but since that’s no longer on the table, I’m down to Meredith and Olivia.”

“That’s a weird combination of names,” Amy huffs. Jake looks the other way, tapping his feet against the floor and whistling in a way that’s probably supposed to come off innocent, but only succeeds in making his behaviour look more conspicuous. “They’re a reference to something, aren’t they?”

“Why would you say that?” Jake snorts. “That’s crazy!” His laugh is overly loud, and she shoots him a warning glare that shuts him up in a second. She’s nearly nine months pregnant now, so her don’t fuck with me-looks are pretty scary at this point.

“Tell me what they are, Jake. I know they’re not Die Hard-characters, and they’re not from Harry Potter or Ninja Turtles, so I’m going to make an assumption and say they’ve got some kind of relation to Taylor Swift.”

“Well, that depends on how you define relation -”

“Jake.”

“Fine, they’re her cats. But they’re nice names!” He wags his index finger in front of her, a childish grin on his face. “They work for humans!”

“Let the cat thing go, babe.”

“Nuh-uh, never.” He leans down, putting his face as close as possible to her bump. “Hey, kick once if you want us to get a cat ASAP.”

It takes a couple of seconds, and Amy almost thinks she’s won, but then Jake puts his hand on her shirt and instantly there’s a kick aimed against it.

“Traitor,” she mutters to the child still trying to play football with her ribs. “I’m the one growing you, you’re supposed to side with me.”

The cat conversation might be able to wait - Jake reluctantly accepts that a three-year-old, a newborn and a kitten would be a little much to take on at one time - but the name conversation’s more urgent. They’re having a baby in a month, maybe less, and even though Amy thinks it feels like forever as she waddles around with swollen ankles, unable to see her feet anymore, she knows it’s not. They need to make a decision.

“This is hopeless,” Jake groans as they look at their handwritten lists one night. They've each written down ten names, then switched with each other and crossed over ones they disliked, leaving them with exactly zero names. “How did we even decide on Leah’s name?”

“Technically, we decided on Leo as in Leonardo like Ninja Turtles, the painter and the actor, and then we found out we were having a girl and Leo became Leah.”

“I know why, I just don't know how. You said no to all of these!” He points at a scratched-out name on the list. “What's wrong with Luna?”

“Sounds too much like Leah.”

“And Abigail?”

“Too different.”

“Meredith?”

“You’ve got to let go of the obsession with Taylor Swift’s cats, man.” Amy massages her temples. “And too Grey’s Anatomy.”

“Fine. What about Olivia, then? Come on,” he says when he sees her pressing her lips together, “no one will know that’s where it’s from. It’s a cute, normal, human name. It’ll work with both our surnames and it goes well with Leah without sounding exactly like it.”

“I don’t know…”

“If we use Liv for a nickname, they’ll be Lee and Liv, which both sounds kinda badass and kinda adorable.” Jake tilts his head to the side, giving her the puppy eyes she swears were passed down straight to their first-born daughter.

He doesn’t entirely convince her, because she doesn’t want to give in to her principle about no Taylor Swift-related names, but she doesn’t hate the sound of Leah and Olivia. Really, the more she thinks about it, the more natural it sounds. She’s not giving him that satisfaction, though, so she tries to hide the smile on her face as she takes his list and writes down OLIVIA below the scratched-out names.

“This doesn’t mean I’m agreeing,” she warns him when his face lights up in excitement. “It just means I’m considering it.”

“Oh no, you’re definitely agreeing. Just like you will with the cat,” he grins, proud of himself, and she lets him have it for about three seconds before she whacks him in the shoulder.

(One evening - almost a year later - when they’re about to move into a bigger house with a garden, and their youngest daughter has started taking her first unsteady steps, Amy does agree to the cat. It’s a moment of weakness, she argues, but she never truly ends up regretting it.)

june.

Since Leah was born a timely two weeks before her due date, Amy’s hoping for the same thing to happen again. Everything is ready as can be for the arrival of their next family member, and they're just waiting, going day out and day in hoping today will be the day, but nothing’s happening. Leah asks every morning when she wakes up if today’s the baby’s birthday, and she gets equally disappointed each time they tell her they don't know yet. She also keeps asking about when she'll get to have her sleepover at uncle Charles’, which seems more of interest to her than the actual event of becoming a big sister, and she gets more and more upset for every day they have to tell her not tonight.

Amy enters her fortieth week of pregnancy, which is the most pregnant she's ever been, and time seems to move impossibly slower. She's swollen, achy, and tired, ready for this to be over and labor to start, but their baby seems to be enjoying herself in there, because the due date comes and goes without a single contraction. No more painful Braxton-Hicks than regular, no water leakage, no nothing. When the clock passes midnight on June 23rd and Amy’s officially past her due date, she’s getting seriously frustrated.

“This baby has to get out,” she complains as Jake rubs her feet that evening. Sometimes she’s pretty sure he’s an actual angel, but also, it’s what she deserves right now. “Starting tomorrow, I'm trying all of the tricks.”

“Or you wait a few days longer? You know she’ll be born eventually.”

“Nope. I need her out of me,” she says, feeling in the exact same moment how the kid’s trying to stretch out from her curled-up position, pushing her feet to Amy’s ribs and her head somewhere seriously uncomfortable, and Amy curses in pain. “Come on, kiddo. You’re clearly uncomfortable too. Don’t wait it out.”

She gets another kick in the ribs for that.

A quick Google search informs her there are many at-home methods available to try and kickstart labor, so she starts with the least terrible ones and works her way up. Sex isn’t bad, but it’s also sweaty and impractical and has no effect whatsoever. Walking is boring and makes her feet swell up like crazy. Jake suggests they go to her favorite bookshop in New York so she can walk around there and have an awesome story to tell if labor were to start in Strand’s Bookstore, but the only thing that happens is people give her sympathetic looks and she nearly cries when a book she wants to look at is on one of the lower shelves. The spicy Chipotle takeout they bring home just gives her heartburn. Pineapple makes her tongue hurt. The raspberry leaf tea tastes like chewing on grass. She saves the castor oil for last, wanting to avoid the distasteful liquid at all costs, but even that has little to no effect and Amy’s furious. On top of it all, Jake can’t stop laughing at her as she waddles around their apartment all grumpy and uncomfortable, and his laughter makes her even angrier.

(Leah just says Amy looks like a couch. That isn’t much better of a self-confidence boost, but it does, at least, make her laugh.)

When Amy’s three days past her due date with no changes, Leah decides she can’t take the anticipation anymore and throws a full-on tantrum. It takes them nearly ten minutes to figure out that the three-year-old’s not crying because she wants the baby to come out, but because the sleepover she’s going to have when her parents are at the hospital is never happening. They try to comfort her with promises of Disney movies and ice cream at home instead, but it doesn’t work, so they give up and call Charles to see if she can stay there an extra night. Charles also cries, because unfortunately, Nikolaj has gotten a stomach bug making them unsuitable for babysitting. After a moment’s consideration and consultation with their still-sobbing daughter, they call Rosa instead, and Rosa’s confused but accepts the request.

“And you're sure you know how to take care of kids for a whole night?” Jake asks when their friend stops by to pick up Leah, who is hyped to hang out with her aunt Rosa for an evening, and drags her into her room to show all her dinosaur toys the moment she steps inside the apartment.

“I assume there's instructions,” Rosa nods to the thick babysitting binder Amy's holding. “And I’ve taken care of my nieces. I’m pretty sure I can keep her alive for a while.”

“Solid. She eats pasta and she's supposed to go bed at seven, but that usually never works, so don't get too stressed about it.”

“Great.”

“Brush her teeth before she goes to sleep and don't let her backflip off the bed,” Amy adds. “There’s lots of information in the binder and we’re a phone call away if there's any issues.”

“Send us pictures if Jocelyn braids her hair!”

“Send us pictures anyway. Please update us.”

“Got it,” says Rosa and lifts up Leah on her shoulders, making the girl scream with laughter. “Pictures, pasta, no backflips. We’ll be fine. You guys enjoy your last night alone in forever,” she grins, pointing to Amy’s baby bump. “Text me if you go into labor.”

“I wish,” Amy groans, and then they’re the overly emotional parents who kiss and hug their oldest daughter goodbye until she begs them to stop.

Rosa leaves with Leah, and the apartment turns the peaceful but unnatural kind of calm they rarely experience at daytime anymore. She guesses it will be but a memory once their second baby finally arrives, but for now, she turns to Jake and asks,

“Wanna have a date night?”

And so they do.

Their last night on their own before life with two kids is gentle and undramatic - a shared bath, a takeout dinner in front of a Harry Potter movie they’ve seen a hundred times before, cuddling and chatting on the couch before going to bed at midnight with hope of a night’s undisturbed sleep.

Nine years they’ve done this, she thinks as he kisses her, and then the bump for good measure, goodnight. Nine, crazy, ever-changing years that have turned their lives upside down more times than she can count, and every day, she wakes up grateful that it’s him she gets to do this with.

It takes her upwards an hour to fall asleep. First she has to pee, then she can’t find a comfortable position, then her back is hurting and Jake has to get her heating pad. When she finally sinks into a dreamless unconsciousness, Amy’s so tired it feels like she could sleep for days.

She sleeps for an hour.

It feels like it’s only been seconds before a dull ache in her lower back and stomach wakes her up, mild at first but increasing steadily, reaching a truly painful point and then ceasing.

Weird, she thinks, and tries to fall back asleep. She’s too tired. She just wants to sleep. Whatever’s going on can surely wait until tomorrow.

A few minutes later, the same pain appears, a little stronger this time. She opens her eyes to glance at the alarm clock - 2.04 in the morning - and shifts her position in hope for that to help, but it doesn’t.

The next time it returns, her clock says 2.08. This time it’s real painful, worse than any Braxton-Hicks she’s felt before this, and it feels a lot, too much, like how she remembers the real deal from when she was in labor with Leah.

2.11, the same sensation appears again, lasting for a full minute and forcing her to breathe real deep to manage the pain. Her belly’s going rock hard for the entire time it’s lasting, too. Definitely suspicious, but she’s still too tired to reflect over it.

2.14, it happens yet another time.

Nope, is the only thought Amy can think when she realizes how close together they’re coming. Nope, nope, nope. She’s way too exhausted. She can have a baby in the morning, when she’s slept, and she’s not a fan of the idea of doing anything before then. This isn’t happening, she tries to convey to her body. This can wait until tomorrow.

2.17. This time, she can’t be still. She tries to find a comfortable position in their bed, but it doesn’t work, she needs to lean against something for support. She slides down to the floor and puts her crossed arms on the mattress, placing her head down and lightly swaying with the rest of her body as she breathes, breathes, breathes through the wave.

2.20. Another one. Amy’s fuming; she’s not having this right now, she’s tired, and no matter how badly she wants to meet this baby, she really wants to sleep before she does.

2.23, the same thing happens again.

2.26. She tries to muffle her groan in a pillow when it’s impossible to be silent. The pain is nearing what feels like an unmanageable point, and she hears Jake stirring awake at the other edge of the bed.

“Ames? What’s happening?”

“Nothing,” she says too quickly in an exhale. “Nothing’s happening.”

“Okay,” he replies in a skeptical tone, stretching himself over the bed and looking her in the eyes. “So you’re just doing that for fun, then?”

She doesn’t reply, but she's hyper-aware of him watching her scrunching her face in god-awful pain when the next contraction hits.

“Babe,” Jake asks, giving her a look of mixed worry and entertainment when it's over, “how many times has that happened?”

“Ten,” she hisses. “It’s fine. They’ll stop. I want to go back to sleep.”

“And how close together are they?”

“Three minutes. Two.”

His eyes widen with fear.

“No.” She shakes her head. “I need to sleep. This baby waited this long, it can wait until the morning.”

“I really don’t think that’s how it works.”

“It should be.”

Jake laughs nervously, stroking her hair. “Sure, but - maybe we should really, definitely, go to the hospital?”

“No, I want to go back to sleep.”

“How exactly do you plan on doing that?”

“I don't know.”

“You know, if we go to the hospital, you could have the epidural like you did last time. Then you could probably sleep for a while.”

She stares him down. “Promise me.”

“Uh, sure. Promise.”

“Okay. Let's go. But only for the epidural,” she declares, and then another torturous contraction forces her to shut up.

A quick call to their doctor confirms they should be going in immediately if contractions are that close together, so Jake is rushing, running around the apartment like a chicken with its head cut off as he packs the final things for their bags. Amy tries to help, but she's pretty useless, because every two minutes she has to lean against the nearest piece of furniture and rock slowly from side to side until the pain subsides. She's not sure how she gets in the car, because each contraction makes her feel like everything else blurs and she can't think, can't speak, can't do anything but try her best to breathe and not faint when the pain radiates through her lower back and core, intense and demanding and so much worse than she remembered.

Only a year ago, she remembers as Jake squeezes her hand and tells her he loves her, they’d been sitting in this same front seat as she cried and cried after finding out their first IVF transfer didn't take. It feels like a lifetime ago, and at the same time, like yesterday. She wonders if she could have predicted this back then, and figures probably not.

“We're having a baby,” she whispers to Jake in a break between contractions, and he smiles so wide she thinks his face is going to break. “You ready?”

“So ready. You?”

“To meet her? Yeah. To give birth? Not really.”

“You're gonna kill it,” he tells her, and there's another contraction just then so she can't reply, only grit her teeth and squeeze his wrist really hard. “You're already killing it.”

“I really can't wait for that epidural,” she mutters through the pain, and Jake just laughs.

Amy's not sure how she gets through the twenty-minute car ride. It's absolute hell, because she can't move in any way, can't do anything except keep breathing and keep holding on to the thought of the pain relief she's going to get once they get to the hospital. She wonders why people willingly choose to put themselves through this without any drugs. She sure as hell isn't going to, not after having learnt the difference last time.

Jake gets them parked and grabs their bags as Amy maneuvers herself out of the car. She manages just in time, closing the door in the same second as there’s a sudden warmth down her thighs and she almost wonders if she’s peed herself before realising what’s happening.

“Water,” she tries to communicate to Jake, and he digs up a pink water bottle from her bag before noticing her wet leggings.

“Oh. That kind of water. Well, at least you didn’t get any on the seat? Very considerate.”

She just glares at him.

Amy guesses it’s meant to be something like a five-minute walk through the corridors, but when she has to stop every other minute for the contractions that seem to have increased fivefold in strength, bringing with them an uncomfortable pressure that she really does not like, it’s probably closer to twenty minutes before they can be guided into their room.

Their doctor - the same one she had for her first labor, an older woman with dark hair and a comforting smile who perfectly meets Amy’s rock-hard criteria for professional but nice - does a quick examination, which Amy can barely feel in comparison to how much pain she’s in by now, and then she laughs.

“Yeah, you’re having a baby tonight alright. Good job getting here in time,” she nods to Jake, who looks unsure if he should accept the compliment or freak out over the possibility of not having gotten there.

“Great,” Amy huffs. “So can I get the epidural? Because I want it now. Please.”

“Oh no,” Dr. Cowan laughs. “You’re eight centimetres dilated and this seems to be progressing quickly. My guess is you’ll be pushing in half an hour, so I’m sorry, but there’s no time for that.”

“What?”

“You could have the laughing gas, if you’d like, but anything else will just slow labor down.”

“You promised,” Amy hisses towards Jake, and he holds up his hands.

“I’m pretty sure this isn’t my fault.”

“You promised!”

“What are we fighting about here?”

“I don’t know,” she confesses, and then another brutal contraction washes over her, together with the realization that she’s going to have to do the rest of this unmedicated.

She’s not happy about it.

Really, Amy's not sure how she gets through it.

To say that it's bad is an understatement; it's excruciating, some kind of evil torture she genuinely can’t believe humans were made to be able to handle, agonizing to a point where she's nearly hoping it will render her unconscious because that means she wouldn't have to take it anymore. She tries the laughing gas, but it just makes her feel dizzy and out of control, so she powers through without it. Jake tries to tell her she's crushing it, that she's badass and strong and doing amazing, but she can't waste any focus listening and eventually she tells him - not very gently - to shut the fuck up. It makes her feel kind of bad, because she knows he’s trying to be supportive, but at the same time, she really couldn't care less about his feelings because she's pretty sure she's going to die every time the pain increases.

But somehow, she survives.

One good thing - and it's not even good, it's more like a band-aid on a gaping chest wound in comparison - about no epidural is that she's free to move around, trying different positions in hope for something to ease the pain. Nothing does, but some ways give her a little bit more power, a little more control over what's happening. Amy supposes it's worth something. She does love control, even if she’d trade it in a heartbeat for some sweet, sweet pain relief. She ends up standing sort of on her hands and knees on the bed, getting some help from gravity, and it feels like the last bit stretches on forever but later on she’ll learn it was really fast. It's scary, a surrealistic thing to feel how her body just takes over, like it knows how to do something her head definitely doesn't.

And then, right as she’s certain she's not going to make it even another second, it's over.

There’s a moment of petrifying fear that something's wrong, that her baby’s about to be taken away like Leah was for the first traumatic minutes of her life, but then she hears a sharp, gurgling cry and she's not sure what’s happening but suddenly there’s a baby on her chest and everything is so, so, right.

Her daughter's kind of purple still, a little slimy and a little bloody and completely perfect, and Amy's shaking with a mix of shock, adrenaline and tears as the newborn puts her tiny hand high up on Amy's chest and she can't help but grip it, whispering a gentle hi, baby, hi, as the child squeaks in return.

She's imagined the sensation of holding her just-born baby in her arms since the first day she started thinking of having another kid, and yet all the fantasies pale in comparison to the explosive, unyielding love she feels when the newborn opens her eyes, gazing carefully at the world for the very first time.

“You know what time it is?” Jake asks her once when they’ve been moved to the recovery room, trying to fathom what just happened. “It’s five-thirty. She was born at four-thirty. When did you say you woke up?”

“Two a.m.,” Amy mumbles, and he shakes his head.

“So you did that in, what, two and a half hours? Man, you’re insane.”

“Thanks.” She chuckles, stroking her fingers over the thick, dark hair that appears to be a dominant trait for Santiago-Peralta children. Their newborn daughter is blinking at them as she tries to figure out the whole breastfeeding thing, seeming pretty exhausted from the events of the morning but not really wanting to sleep, either. “It was awful.”

“But worth it?”

“Yeah,” Amy nods without tearing her eyes away from their hour-old miracle. “Worth it. I’m not doing it again, though.”

Jake grins and kisses the top of the newborn’s head. “Very fair. I mean, we literally have the two most perfect kids the world has ever seen, so it’s not like you have to.”

“She really is perfect, huh?”

“For sure. You really are,” he whispers to their baby, running his thumb over her round cheeks and tiny nose. “Just like your sister.”

“Leah,” Amy bursts out, sitting up a little straighter and instantly regretting it because she’s sore and ungracious in every way. “We need to tell her! We never even told anyone we were going in! Fuck, I gotta text Rosa. Can you get me my phone?”

Jake brings it to her, and Amy carefully transfers their daughter over to his chest so she can have her arms free. The newborn whimpers at first, not too happy about the move, but then Jake softly pats her back through the pink and blue hospital blanket and lets her grip onto his thumb with her fist, and she’s at peace again. Her little head snuggles into his chest as she relaxes, and Amy just watches, barely making an attempt at wiping away the happy tears.

It’s been an obvious feeling to her, to hold her children for the first time and know that they are hers in some miraculous way, that they were part of her - but it’s another unique and indescribable feeling to watch Jake hold them and know they are his just as much, always safe and loved in his presence. Although she could never have predicted the sensation, she’s always had an inkling of it - a deep conviction and a ceaseless, rightful confidence that he would make the greatest dad. It keeps being proven correct.

“I forgot how small they are,” he mumbles, and there are tears in his eyes, too.

“She’s like a pound and a half bigger than Leah was.”

“Doesn’t feel like it. Do you think they look the same?”

“A little?” Amy tilts her head. “Same hair, same nose. But so different, too.”

“I think she looks a lot more like you than Lee did,” Jake smiles, stroking the little fist holding onto his thumb before kissing it. “I’m fine with that. You look like your mom, kid. Oh, don’t look so upset,” he says when the newborn scrunches her face together, “it’s a great way to look. Would you rather have my nose? Yeah, right. I didn't think so.”

Amy laughs, letting them continue their exchange as she snaps a picture of them and then sends that and another one of the first baby pictures to Rosa.

Rosa’s reply is as instant as it is shocked. She congratulates them, tells Amy she's crazy, promises them they can talk to Leah once she wakes up and even offers to drive her there later in the afternoon “if it means she'll beat Charles to meeting this baby”.

Amy figures she should probably text more people to spread the news, but the important thing is Leah knows, or at least will know, so she puts her phone on the side table and turns back to Jake.

“Rosa’s going to call us when Leah’s awake,” she says, unable to keep herself from leaning over and kissing their baby’s cheeks when she squeaks a little again.

“Great. You want to get some sleep before?”

“Oh, so bad.” Her exhaustion faded away somewhat in the chaos, pure adrenaline and a cascade of hormones keeping her awake, but it's catching up with her now. “Promise you two are good?”

“Olivia and I are great,” he promises, and his smile and their daughter’s softly blinking eyes makes her certain he’s right. “You agreed to that name, right?”

“One condition.” Amy yawns. “You are never allowed to tell her she’s named after a cat. Ever.”

She thinks she can hear him mumbling something about not making promises he won’t be able to keep, but she’s falling asleep before she can protest.

Leah’s and Olivia’s first meeting doesn’t start out great.

Amy’s trying to be methodical and gentle, making sure Olivia’s in her bassinet and she can have both arms free to hug her three-year-old, but then the infant starts wailing the moment Leah enters the room and she gets terrified, immediately trying to run out with tears streaming down her cheeks. Jake has to chase after her while Amy tends to Olivia, who’s decided she needs to eat right this second and not a moment later, except she’s literally ten hours old and not very good at nursing just yet, which only serves to increase her frustration before she calms down enough to figure it out. When she does and Amy can take a deep breath, Jake and Leah return. Leah’s calmed down a little, but she’s still red under the eyes and skeptical to even say hi to her mom and her sister. Amy’s heartbroken as the girl wraps her arms tighter around Jake and turns her head away, and there’s a second where she wonders briefly again why she thought this was a good idea.

But then, Jake asks if Leah wants to see the gift Olivia brought her - a nifty trick Amy found on some Instagram account - and the three-year-old squeals with happiness as she unwraps a singing Elsa doll, and it’s upwards from there. She dares to climb into the hospital bed and first look at the baby, then carefully pat her head, then laugh as Olivia finishes nursing and makes another squeaking noise. Amy figures Leah won’t want to hold her sister at first, but once she’s told them all about her sleepover with Rosa - it seems to have included gymnastics, a Disney movie and cake - she’s looking at the baby with a little more interest, and then she asks the question all on her own.

“Can I hold her?”

They put a pillow in her lap and a pillow behind her back for support, and Jake holds his hand under Olivia’s head throughout, but they let her. It’s the best thing Amy’s ever seen in her life. Just when she thinks it can't get better than this, Leah leans her head down so her cheek is touching her little sister's, and Amy has no way of stopping her happy tears.

She’d never thought people were lying, per se, when they’d described how your love just doubles when you have another child. She’d been certain she would love another baby just as much. It had been part of the reason she fought so hard to have one, but she realizes now that she was never even close to understanding the full meaning of double the love. The power with which she loves Leah has grown exponentially for every day, reaching infinity and still becoming stronger, and today, it's like her love for Olivia has clocked in at the same level, stretched out a hand and increased in tandem with the love for her sister. Amy wonders how it makes sense, how it’s possible for a heart to grow that big, but she's accepted that it’s one of many questions about motherhood she’ll never know the answer too.

Instead, she just makes sure she takes a series of pictures to document the moment, and then she meets Jake's eyes for a second to mouth a silent I love you.

They get to go home the next afternoon. Amy was expecting it to feel more natural with their second child, less like they’ve stolen someone else’s baby and is pretending to know what they’re doing, but it feels just as absurd as the first time when they secure her in the car seat and carry her outside.

The sun seems to be shining particularly bright as they drive, but Olivia sleeps for the whole way home.

She does not, however, continue with that for the rest of the day. Rather, she wants to eat for most of it. Which is fine; Amy knows and remembers that’s what it’s like at first. Still, it’s exhausting and far from painless while they’re both trying to figure it out, and it keeps her stuck to her corner of the couch for hours on end. This gets Leah jealous, making her throw a tantrum because she wants Amy to play with her in her room and she can’t, and there's a moment where everyone except Jake is crying at the same time before Leah calms down and accepts the suggestion of everyone watching a movie on the couch and ordering pizza for dinner. Partly to celebrate, partly because no one has the energy to cook.

There's going to be an adjustment period for them all, Amy figures. She’s certain it will come with a cavalcade of challenges, but as Leah insists on being Jake's helper as he changes a diaper and shines with pride as she hands him too many wet wipes and picks out Olivia's pajamas, she can already tell it's going to be more than worth it.

When it’s time for Leah to go to bed, she claims she wants everyone there to read stories. Amy asks, just to make sure, if that means her sister too, and Leah nods. She’s very intent on storytime taking place in her bed, though, and so Amy ends up squeezing herself to fit in the toddler bed with Olivia on her chest and Leah on her side. Jake has to sit on the floor.

“This is unfair,” he grumbles, and Leah laughs and snuggles closer to her mom, pressing a kiss to her baby sister’s head.

“Read the story, dada.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it.”

They read two different stories, both of them yawning through the second one. Amy’s pretty sure Leah’s about to fall asleep, can feel the little arm draped across her stomach going heavier, more relaxed, but as Jake closes the covers to the second book, there’s a whisper.

“Another book,” it comes out in a yawn, and Jake laughs.

“Are you sure, bumblebee? I think you’re getting pretty tired.”

“No.” Leah shakes her head. “More stories.”

“Fine.” He presses a kiss to her forehead. “One more. Just for tonight.”

He begins to read, and a few minutes later, Leah’s sleeping. She has her mouth open, one arm still resting on Amy as if to hold her in place, her other arm hugging the stuffed lion animal she still sleeps with.

She seems so big in comparison to her little sister, yet so innocent and peaceful as she’s sleeping, and entirely magical to watch. Every day, Amy thanks her lucky stars that she gets to watch this child grow up and take on the world, and it blows her mind to think she’ll get to do the same with the baby curled up on her chest. It seems so far away to picture this tiny infant growing up and becoming her own unique individual, too, but she knows it will happen, and she cannot wait for the rollercoaster ride she figures raising these two children will be.

She’s squeezed into a far from comfortable position in the narrow toddler bed, she’s still sore and in pain after the nightmare that is childbirth, she's sleep-deprived and figures she's looked better after a 48 hour work shift than she does right now, but both her children are sleeping so close to her, and she's never been happier.

There’d been a time, not long ago, where she thought she’d never get to experience this. A second child had seemed like something the universe wasn't willing to give her, until it was, and now she’s living the reality she once feared would remain a dream.

She knows she’s never going to see her infertility journey as something beautiful, because it wasn’t. It was heartbreaking, soul-crushing and lonely even with Jake by her side, and the few comments she’s heard about how it must all have been worth it, though have made her want to punch someone. It was a curveball life threw her, an unfair challenge she had to go through for some reason, and she’s happy she survived it but she’s not grateful it happened. She’s simply accepted it. In the end, her life also gave her this; two objectively perfect children who are the best thing to ever happen to her, even pushing their father down to a still close second-place position. Her gratefulness for them still doesn't erase the painful experiences, but it makes them fade into the background, to a point where they’ll eventually become but a faint shadow of a memory. Amy figures that is the most she can ask for.

It takes her a moment to realize she has no idea how she's going to get up from this position. She’s closest to the wall, and she gets now that it was an unwise choice. Leah’s holding onto her arm, Olivia’s sleeping lightly and already stirring, and Amy has strong doubts in her own ability to get up without waking anyone.

She looks to Jake, hoping he might be able to help her, but finds that he’s fallen asleep on the floor using a stuffed animal as a pillow and holding his thumb between the last pages of the book they were reading. It looks ridiculous and deeply endearing at the same time, and even though it means she’s so screwed and she’s going to have to wake him somehow before Olivia starts screaming bloody murder, she can’t be mad about it.

All she can do is laugh.

and at last, i see the light

and it’s like the fog has lifted

and at last, i see the light

and it’s like the sky is new

and it’s warm, and real, and bright

and the world has somehow shifted

all at once, everything looks different

now that i see you.

~ i see the light, from tangled

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