victormakesart | (no subject)

(no subject)

Victor reads The Very Hungry Caterpillar, The Grouchy Ladybug, and Where the Wild Things Are (thrice, twice, and five times respectively) for the girls, and she gives them kisses goodnight. Then she reads part of a motor manual for Jude (yes, but he requested it), and tucks him in, and then Anya starts crying and she has to go put her back to sleep (Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What do you See, read four times).

By the time she makes it to the couch, it's nine-thirty and she's yawning.

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"What kind of things?" he asks, leaning into her too, just for the closeness.

She touches the skin of his arm, the skin of his stomach, glorying in warmth, in texture. "Maybe a modified skateboardy thing, for when I'm on the floor with the kids and I have to get something I can't reach, I could just sorta scoot on over, grab it, scoot back."

"I think I remember those from elementary school gym class," he says with a little smile.

"Yeah, kinda like that." She smooths her fingers against his right cheekbone.

He's quiet for a moment, not sure how to ask, or whether he should. "Do you think three is your limit?"

She breathes in because her stomach gives a little jolt, like that feeling before you get big news, and she shakes her head. "Definitely not."

"I know we've talked about it before, but I've been feeling more and more like I shouldn't wait to have kids of my own," he admits.

"Is this a rushy panicky feeling or a ready calm feeling?"

"I've been thinking about it for a while, so I'm leaning more towards the latter."

"Oh my gosh, we're gonna have a baby," she murmurs, pushing a gentle kiss to his lips. "You're, you're sure, and everything?"

"I'm not getting any younger... but I don't want you to be overwhelmed, either."

"You're so young," she says, kissing his forehead, his temples. "It'll be alright. It'll be good. The girls aren't baby-babies anymore; they can communicate what they want, sometimes."

"Doesn't mean it'll be easy. And we'll need to find a surrogate, or something..."

"We'll figure it out. Oh, honey, we're gonna have a baby!"

He smiles, seeing that she doesn't seem anxious about it at all, nothing but enthusiasm. Though she really, really likes babies. So there's that. "Yeah. I hope so."

She brushes his hair back, rests forehead to forehead. "We'll work it out, promise. You deserve to have a kid. A beautiful, brilliant, fantastic kid. Here I'm assumin' it'll get most of your genes." A playful smile, a deliberate little nuzzle.

"Usually it's half and half, I think." He's slightly teasing here, he knows perfectly well how genetics work.

"We can, uh, start the process. Extracting... e-eggs, and... you know, stuff, genetic stuff. We can go see a doctor. Not my doctor. I'd die if it were my doctor." The fact that Victor's willing to go through this process at all says a lot about how much she loves him, and how much she wants a kid with him.

He definitely gets that, especially since she's not even willing to say it, not with the right words and anything other than the vaguest of euphemisms. "We'll find someone else. Would it help if the doctor is a complete stranger?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I think it would, that it would help a lot. Not sure if I could, um-- could we go to another world for it, too, if that's okay? I don't know if that's just me bein' too paranoid."

"I think we can do that." It seems a bit paranoid to him, but he doesn't see a reason why not.

She gives him a prompt kiss on the cheek. "Thanks. I can get started as soon as you're ready, you know. What with the doctor thing."

"Do you think you'd feel better picking out our doctor?" Since, after all, he has little preference.

"I mean, as long as we both agree on who to go with. We'd have to look at fertility specialists, so you'd have to... do stuff, too, there. I'll have to fake medical information for the two of us, so that's the first step."

"We'll plan it out together," he promises, knowing that if she tried to set up an appointment there would be stammering and awkwardness and no resolution whatsoever.