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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She gives his cheek a gigantic smooch, then, carefully, with several protesting joints, deposits herself on top of his lap. "Thank you."

"Thank you." This is a big deal, and he finally thinks he feels ready to do it. And he's lucky to have someone willing to at least make some sacrifices for his happiness, ones where he won't have to sacrifice hers.

He cuddles up to her a bit, leaning his head against her, arms around her waist.

A nuzzle, hands on his shoulders, thumbs rubbing circles on his shirt. "And if you ever feel like you need to wait a little longer, this isn't written in stone, we can take as long as you need."

"I don't want to wait too long. And I'm just more worried about you."

"I'm... scared. Of the medical part of this. Really, really, really scared. But I can do it. I might need some valium or whatevs, but I can do it."

"We'll get you whatever you need." He really, really appreciates her putting herself through this for him, and kisses her in thanks.

"I love you," she says, kissing him back in earnest. "You're stunning, honey. Straight up."

"Let's hold off on telling the kids until this is already happening," he suggests.

She hadn't even thought of not saying anything to the kids (she wants to shout it from the rooftops, perhaps on a different planet), but she's really glad that he mentioned it, because it makes sense. Then she thinks of something she's been vaguely worried about since she realized she's infertile. "There are... complications, potentially with multiple births, or leftover e-eggs and even leftover embryos. I'm not sure how I feel about there bein' leftover frozen babies."

"Well... maybe we can find a world where their medicine's a lot more advanced than us. Where they can make sure to do it right with just one."

"And that way the risk of birth-defect goes down, and, um, and if I don't h-have eggs they can maybe figure out a way to, to synthesize them."

"Yeah. See? It'll work out. There's got to be someone in the multiverse who can do it."

She kisses his forehead matter-of-factly, then his lips, less matter-of-factly. "This'll be good."

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