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eliyesTitle: Not Now, But Someday
Summary: Opal. Bobby. Pregnancy.
The first time it happened, they'd only been lovers for four months. To Opal's surprise, Bobby noticed the discrepancy in her schedule just as she did. When her period was three days overdue, he brought it up.
"Sweetheart?" he began as he settled down beside her on the bed. "Did you go on the pill or something?"
"No. Why?" She rolled towards him and delayed his response with a kiss.
He rubbed her back -- and then stopped, smiling sheepishly.
"Well, uh, normally this time of the month you need backrubs -- but we had sex last night."
"It's nothing," she told him. "Sometimes I skip a whole month, and with the pressure on for my end of term projects..."
"Okay," he said, and let the subject drop. A speculative look entered his eyes, and he pulled her closer. "You know... I think I might know a way to help you de-stress..."
"Oh? I'm all ears, Mr. Drake..."
The next month her period showed up right on time, and Opal breathed a private sigh of relief. Bobby just offered backrubs and soup from her favourite vegan deli. They didn't talk about it.
The second time it happened, seven months later, neither of them mentioned it -- not at first. Life had certainly been providing enough stress; Opal was surprised she'd been as regular as she had, really. Dating a superhero was not for the faint of heart.
The next month rolled around, and she felt sure her period would come. She was PMSing like mad, and by the third day with no period, she'd honestly begun to feel a little scared. Which didn't help her mood swings.
Bobby came over that evening to find her sitting at ground zero of an art supply armageddon. He knelt down in front of her, and she flung her arms around his neck and sobbed about how the gesso was conspiring against her and she couldn't do anything right. He must have sense that she needed the catharsis because he didn't try to cheer her up until she'd cried herself out. She appreciated it. He washed her face with a cool flannel cloth and helped her change into a shirt that wasn't damp from tears -- one of his t-shirts -- and she appreciated that, too.
They cuddled on her bed.
"Do you think it's time for a pregnancy test?" he asked softly, carding a hand through her hair.
"Maybe? Yes, but I just --" She flailed her hands against his chest. "It's stupid. I'm not -- sure I could buy one. I'd be embarrassed. It's stupid."
"It's not stupid." Bobby caught one of her hands and kissed each finger, and Opal took deep, calming breaths, wishing she could just breathe out the tight knot of anxiety that seemed lodged in her chest.
"I can buy it," he offered, surprising her.
"You'd do that?"
He gave her a crooked smile.
"Hey, it takes two to tango."
She smiled back. Bobby's smile widened, and he kissed her forehead, tender.
"But if the test says no, you should go see a doctor. It could be something else, something that might be serious." His eyes, looking into hers, were serious, too. Concerned.
"Yeah," she said softly, then yawned. "Ugh. I think I need a nap."
"I'm not surprised. I'll get you a glass of water, first, though, You're gonna wake up with a dehydration headache --"
Opal clutched his hands before he managed to push himself up.
"Don't go." He opened his mouth, but she didn't give him the chance to say anything. "I mean, yes, get me some water, but -- don't go yet. Stay with me tonight? I don't -- I don't want to --"
His eyes went soft with understanding, and if she hadn't felt so crappy, she'd have grabbed a sketchbook to try to capture that expression of empathy.
"It can wait, 'til morning," he said. He kissed her forehead again while she whispered, "thank you."
Opal woke after sunset, roused by the murmur of Bobby's voice. He was sitting at the end of the bed, limned in the multi-coloured city glare that came in through to her window, phone held to his ear.
" --would ask Hank, but he's the one who recommended the top-tested brand of condoms, so... No, of course not, Vera. Okay, thanks." He wrote something down, pencil scratching against the notepad balanced on his leg. When he was done, he said, "Thanks," again, then, "What?"
Opal pretended to still be asleep.
"I guess I'm okay. I mean, ask me again tomorrow -- I don't really..." He brought a hand up to his face; it was hard to tell, since he had his back to her, but she thought he might be rubbing his eyes.
"I love her," Bobby said softly. "The instant we saw each other, I just, I knew. And yeah, I would like to have kids with her, someday, but we haven't talked about it. I don't know what she wants, I don't..." He snorted, quickly muffling it. "No. Yeah. Okay. Thanks again, Vera. I will. Okay, 'bye."
He hung up, and sat for a moment, collecting himself. Opal's heart ached, and she was about to say something when he inhaled deeply through his nose and stood.
She waited while he put the phone back and went to the washroom; she heard the sink run, and the sound of Bobby splashing water on his face.
When he came back, she still didn't have her feelings sorted out, so she just pretended to come awake, accepted his soft-voiced greeting, agreed when he suggested food.
They made sandwiches together, piling them too high and laughing when the insides made a break for it, and drank sticky, addictive peanut-butter-and-chocolate milkshakes, even though cleaning the blender afterwards was always a pain. They snuggled together on the couch and watched some black-and-white screwball comedy they found while channel-surfing, George Burns, Gracie Allen, and Fred Astaire all tapdancing and singing. Bobby dozed off, and only jerked awake when Fred started kicking drums, so Opal took him to bed.
She glanced at the notepad as she went to brush her teeth, eyes sliding away from medical brand names.
The next day, Bobby returned from his usual morning run with bagels, oranges, a fresh jar of peanut butter, and a small bag from the pharmacy. He lured Opal away from cleaning the previous day's mess by making breakfast -- that burnt sienna was probably never coming up off the floor, anyway. After they ate, she finally looked in the bag.
"Three tests?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "Isn't that a little overboard?"
He shrugged, unrepentant. "You'd get a second opinion from a doctor if you could, right?"
"And the third?"
"Just in case you need a tiebreaker."
Opal's breath rattled around in her lungs. If even one test came back positive --
"'Tiebreaker'," she repeated faux-darkly, and took all three test into the bathroom.
When all three tests came up negative, Opal surprised herself by feeling some disappointment with the relief. That afternoon, she finally started her period, and that evening she sat curled around a hot water bottle while Bobby gave her a backrub. At which point she surprised herself again.
"You know, I think -- I think I do want kids, someday," she said, and Bobby's hands stuttered to a halt among the knobs of her spine.
"Y-yeah?" he breathed.
"Yeah." She looked over her shoulder at him. "Not yet, but someday, when I'm ready. And --" She lowered her voice. "-- I think you'd make a great father."
Bobby's smile was brilliant.
"Yeah?" he asked again.
"Yeah."
He leaned forward to press a kiss to her shoulder, arms coming around to gently hug her.
"Someday," he told her, "when we're ready -- I bet you'd make a great mom."
Opal swallowed past the lump in her throat, blinking away tears.
"Yeah?" she asked.
"Yeah."
.
Summary: Opal. Bobby. Pregnancy.
The first time it happened, they'd only been lovers for four months. To Opal's surprise, Bobby noticed the discrepancy in her schedule just as she did. When her period was three days overdue, he brought it up.
"Sweetheart?" he began as he settled down beside her on the bed. "Did you go on the pill or something?"
"No. Why?" She rolled towards him and delayed his response with a kiss.
He rubbed her back -- and then stopped, smiling sheepishly.
"Well, uh, normally this time of the month you need backrubs -- but we had sex last night."
"It's nothing," she told him. "Sometimes I skip a whole month, and with the pressure on for my end of term projects..."
"Okay," he said, and let the subject drop. A speculative look entered his eyes, and he pulled her closer. "You know... I think I might know a way to help you de-stress..."
"Oh? I'm all ears, Mr. Drake..."
The next month her period showed up right on time, and Opal breathed a private sigh of relief. Bobby just offered backrubs and soup from her favourite vegan deli. They didn't talk about it.
The second time it happened, seven months later, neither of them mentioned it -- not at first. Life had certainly been providing enough stress; Opal was surprised she'd been as regular as she had, really. Dating a superhero was not for the faint of heart.
The next month rolled around, and she felt sure her period would come. She was PMSing like mad, and by the third day with no period, she'd honestly begun to feel a little scared. Which didn't help her mood swings.
Bobby came over that evening to find her sitting at ground zero of an art supply armageddon. He knelt down in front of her, and she flung her arms around his neck and sobbed about how the gesso was conspiring against her and she couldn't do anything right. He must have sense that she needed the catharsis because he didn't try to cheer her up until she'd cried herself out. She appreciated it. He washed her face with a cool flannel cloth and helped her change into a shirt that wasn't damp from tears -- one of his t-shirts -- and she appreciated that, too.
They cuddled on her bed.
"Do you think it's time for a pregnancy test?" he asked softly, carding a hand through her hair.
"Maybe? Yes, but I just --" She flailed her hands against his chest. "It's stupid. I'm not -- sure I could buy one. I'd be embarrassed. It's stupid."
"It's not stupid." Bobby caught one of her hands and kissed each finger, and Opal took deep, calming breaths, wishing she could just breathe out the tight knot of anxiety that seemed lodged in her chest.
"I can buy it," he offered, surprising her.
"You'd do that?"
He gave her a crooked smile.
"Hey, it takes two to tango."
She smiled back. Bobby's smile widened, and he kissed her forehead, tender.
"But if the test says no, you should go see a doctor. It could be something else, something that might be serious." His eyes, looking into hers, were serious, too. Concerned.
"Yeah," she said softly, then yawned. "Ugh. I think I need a nap."
"I'm not surprised. I'll get you a glass of water, first, though, You're gonna wake up with a dehydration headache --"
Opal clutched his hands before he managed to push himself up.
"Don't go." He opened his mouth, but she didn't give him the chance to say anything. "I mean, yes, get me some water, but -- don't go yet. Stay with me tonight? I don't -- I don't want to --"
His eyes went soft with understanding, and if she hadn't felt so crappy, she'd have grabbed a sketchbook to try to capture that expression of empathy.
"It can wait, 'til morning," he said. He kissed her forehead again while she whispered, "thank you."
Opal woke after sunset, roused by the murmur of Bobby's voice. He was sitting at the end of the bed, limned in the multi-coloured city glare that came in through to her window, phone held to his ear.
" --would ask Hank, but he's the one who recommended the top-tested brand of condoms, so... No, of course not, Vera. Okay, thanks." He wrote something down, pencil scratching against the notepad balanced on his leg. When he was done, he said, "Thanks," again, then, "What?"
Opal pretended to still be asleep.
"I guess I'm okay. I mean, ask me again tomorrow -- I don't really..." He brought a hand up to his face; it was hard to tell, since he had his back to her, but she thought he might be rubbing his eyes.
"I love her," Bobby said softly. "The instant we saw each other, I just, I knew. And yeah, I would like to have kids with her, someday, but we haven't talked about it. I don't know what she wants, I don't..." He snorted, quickly muffling it. "No. Yeah. Okay. Thanks again, Vera. I will. Okay, 'bye."
He hung up, and sat for a moment, collecting himself. Opal's heart ached, and she was about to say something when he inhaled deeply through his nose and stood.
She waited while he put the phone back and went to the washroom; she heard the sink run, and the sound of Bobby splashing water on his face.
When he came back, she still didn't have her feelings sorted out, so she just pretended to come awake, accepted his soft-voiced greeting, agreed when he suggested food.
They made sandwiches together, piling them too high and laughing when the insides made a break for it, and drank sticky, addictive peanut-butter-and-chocolate milkshakes, even though cleaning the blender afterwards was always a pain. They snuggled together on the couch and watched some black-and-white screwball comedy they found while channel-surfing, George Burns, Gracie Allen, and Fred Astaire all tapdancing and singing. Bobby dozed off, and only jerked awake when Fred started kicking drums, so Opal took him to bed.
She glanced at the notepad as she went to brush her teeth, eyes sliding away from medical brand names.
The next day, Bobby returned from his usual morning run with bagels, oranges, a fresh jar of peanut butter, and a small bag from the pharmacy. He lured Opal away from cleaning the previous day's mess by making breakfast -- that burnt sienna was probably never coming up off the floor, anyway. After they ate, she finally looked in the bag.
"Three tests?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "Isn't that a little overboard?"
He shrugged, unrepentant. "You'd get a second opinion from a doctor if you could, right?"
"And the third?"
"Just in case you need a tiebreaker."
Opal's breath rattled around in her lungs. If even one test came back positive --
"'Tiebreaker'," she repeated faux-darkly, and took all three test into the bathroom.
When all three tests came up negative, Opal surprised herself by feeling some disappointment with the relief. That afternoon, she finally started her period, and that evening she sat curled around a hot water bottle while Bobby gave her a backrub. At which point she surprised herself again.
"You know, I think -- I think I do want kids, someday," she said, and Bobby's hands stuttered to a halt among the knobs of her spine.
"Y-yeah?" he breathed.
"Yeah." She looked over her shoulder at him. "Not yet, but someday, when I'm ready. And --" She lowered her voice. "-- I think you'd make a great father."
Bobby's smile was brilliant.
"Yeah?" he asked again.
"Yeah."
He leaned forward to press a kiss to her shoulder, arms coming around to gently hug her.
"Someday," he told her, "when we're ready -- I bet you'd make a great mom."
Opal swallowed past the lump in her throat, blinking away tears.
"Yeah?" she asked.
"Yeah."
.