Chapter Text
Nora had been drifting in and out of consciousness for the past hour or so, her belly throbbing something awful—at one point she was sure she’d heard Ray’s hysteria-filled yelp from down the hall saying in no uncertain terms that he was going to be a father, but she’s sure she must've been dreaming.
What’s more, she certainly wasn't going to bother asking—she thinks she’d probably reached her quota of awkward conversations with the frustratingly sweet and inexplicably charming Ray Palmer for one day.
(She also really didn’t want to think about where exactly her mind had gone on the topic of children and the insufferably attractive all-American Boy-Next-Door Ray Palmer—no, she didn’t want to remember that she thought of Ray raising his own children, kissing their boo-boos until they laughed through their tears and telling the most horrible jokes that would make them groan in embarrassment even as their chests ached with the sheer love they felt for their father.
She didn’t want to catch herself thinking ever again about the no doubt infinitesimally small possibility that it could be her living in that suburban neighborhood with white picket-fences and Dad of the Year Ray Palmer driving their kids to soccer games on the weekends and cheering far too loudly on the sidelines even when nothing even remotely exciting was happening.
No, she refused to let herself think about that.)
So, due to her current state in which she found herself more or less oscillating between the worlds of groggy consciousness and sleep, she was sure she was dreaming when Ray practically skipped back into his quarters with a beaming smile, carrying an unreasonable amount of environmentally-friendly shopping totes (because of course Ray Palmer wouldn’t ever be so callous as to use plastic bags for his groceries) on his very well-proportioned arms, like he’d just bought out an entire store.
Still convinced it was a dream, she allowed her eyes to flutter closed, waiting for the sounds of a positively ecstatic Ray shuffling around the room to fade into nothingness.
They didn’t.
“Ray?” she asked tentatively then, cracking open a single eye.
The man whirled around, still holding a ridiculous number of shopping totes filled with… whatever he’d bought, his entire disposition lighting up even further (if such a thing was even possible) when he saw that Nora was awake.
“Hi!” He moved as if to wave, then seemed to realize he couldn’t with all the totes weighing heavily on either arm, so he just settled for a subtle wiggle of his fingers on one hand, which, adorable.
Forcing her heavily-clouded brain to focus, she allowed her eyes to dart down to the excess of merchandise in his arms, then back up to his impossibly wide grin. “Was there a sale?” she asked hoarsely, quirking a single eyebrow, only half joking.
“Uh—Um,” Ray coughed awkwardly, a hint of a blush tinting his cheeks. “N—No! It’s just—Well, it’s actually kind of funny cause, um—Well, I was talking to Sara and Ava and—"
“Ray,” she interrupted as she forced herself to sit upright against the headboard, leveling him with an amused gaze and delighting in the sight of his blush deepening as a result. “You’re rambling. Say what you need to say.”
“Oh—Right—Okay,” he scrambled for his words, taking a deep breath to compose himself. “Well, I know you said you didn’t need anything,” he began, looking almost bashfully down at the various bags in his arms, “but I didn’t want you to go through this alone o-or not have something you wanted, you know? Cause you deserve everything you want—I just, I mean, I wanted to help,” he paused his rambling for a moment, leaning to place the bags on the floor, then taking out an obscenely large box of Dove chocolates. “So I got these, because I know you might want something sweet, right? Sara told me she always wants chocolate when it’s… when she… has her… p-period, and Dove is her favorite—" he dug out three more assortments from various different (not to mention expensive) companies, “—and Charlie said the Ferrero Rocher truffles were the best, so I got you a big box of of those, and then some Lindt chocolate bars and truffles, though John did steal some before I could stop him, so you’ll just have to let me know if you want me to run out and get some more… Oh! And also this German kind—I have no idea how to pronounce the name but Ava swears by it, so it’s probably good,” he finished, laying each box onto the bedspread as Nora gaped.
“Ray…” she trailed off, completely at a loss for words.
Seemingly undeterred, he just blathered on, whipping out a family-sized box of heating pads next. “Oh! And I got these, which the guy at the pharmacy said were the best for m-m-menstrual cramps,” he cleared his throat again, shaking his head self-deprecatingly at himself as Nora giggled. “And then these, too!” he announced triumphantly, pulling out yet another over-sized box of heating pads from a different brand. “He said these were the second best,” he admitted bashfully, ducking his head as he moved to set that box on the sheets to join the others, “so I bought these, too.”
A rather undignified squeak escaped Nora’s throat, her eyes beginning to burn with overwhelmed tears at the sheer care she was being shown right now from a man that owed her absolutely nothing, but was deciding to show her a sort of kindness anyhow, the kind that she’s positive she’d never known before.
“Ray, I—"
“Also! I got you a bunch of painkillers,” he continued his excited babbling, leaning eagerly forward to show her an entire shopping tote’s worth of various colored pill bottles—probably enough to make a bad trip on coke-laced acid seem like a walk in the freaking park, Nora thought idly. “And these too! Tissues, ‘cause I realized I ran out,” he said with a chuckle, placing that box atop the others on the mattress (which was quickly running out of available space). “Okay, so I wasn’t sure if you used p-p-pads or t-t—“
“Tampons?” Nora supplied, a goofy smile spreading uncontrollably across her tired features even as she felt the tears in her eyes threaten to spill down her cheeks.
“Uh—I—Yeah!” Ray choked out, now holding at least four bright-pink boxes of each product in his defined arms. “See?” he managed to gesture proudly without his hands, the prideful grin immediately falling as he looked up and saw a single tear trace down Nora’s face. “N-Nora?” he questioned, suddenly sounding lost. “Hey, don’t cry,” he said, rising from his crouched position on the floor to approach her sitting on the bed, taking a careful seat next to her shaking form. "Did I do something wrong?”
“N-No!” she managed, her voice thick with emotion. “God, no, you haven’t done anything wrong, Ray, I promise,” she paused, sniffling softly. “You’re being so nice to me.”
Ray slowly reached for her hand, grasping it warmly in both of his when she didn’t pull away. “Of course,” he said quietly, though his tone was firm. “I told you I’d be here.”
“Why?” she whispered, hating how her voice trembled.
“Why what?”
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
Ray was silent for a moment, then eventually let out a slow sigh. “Because I like you, Nora. A lot more than I originally planned,” he paused. “But you don’t owe me a single thing, okay? This isn’t quid-pro-quo, or anything like that. I’m doing this because I care.”
Nora sniffled again. “Y-You do?” she asked, hesitantly raising her teary eyes to meet his, relishing in the feel of his warm hands surrounding hers.
“I do,” he replied tenderly, bringing a hand up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, and God, Nora couldn’t help the nagging voice in her head that was telling her that maybe she could find her happiness here, sinking blissfully into the warmth and domesticity that always enveloped her in the presence of Ray Palmer.
She bit her lip, searching his eyes for a hint of a lie or the tiniest shred of deception—but, she had to remind herself, this was Ray; if he ever intentionally caught himself telling a single lie, he’d probably turn himself into the FBI the very next day and demand they detain him for the safety of America.
“I’m sorry for being so emotional,” she sniffled after a long moment of comfortable silence, his genuine brown-eyed gaze still burning into hers. “I guess I’ll be needing those tissues after all,” she said with an awkward chuckle.
At that, Ray smiled, though there was still something like sincerity glinting in his eyes. “Don’t apologize for that. I’ll be glad if even one of the things I bought can help you.”
“You’re too good to me,” she whispered, like it was a secret she’d never told anyone else before—and in a way, she thinks it might have been.
Almost instantly Ray was shaking his head emphatically, his gaze filled with so much affection she feared she might burst. “You’re wrong,” he said simply, a sad smile on his face. “But that’s okay. I’ll spend as many days as I have to making sure you know your worth.”
She didn’t bother trying to stop another tear from tracing its way down her cheek, even as she tried desperately to fight that ever-present voice in her head saying that maybe she didn’t have to fight like this anymore; the one that said maybe if she spent every second trying to be better for him, she just might reach a point where she actually deserved his unconditional care and that warm feeling she got in her belly every time he smiled; the one saying that maybe this, with him, would be enough.
It was horrible to fight that voice, the one that spoke of hope and dreams and something better, because it always hurt her so badly to remind herself that she didn’t deserve any of it…
But she was too tired to fight it now, and it was likely one of the best things she’d felt in a long time—sweet surrender: surrendering to those warm chocolate-brown eyes and that unrelenting goodness and the kind words Ray handed out to her like candy, not even to mention the way her heart seemed to stop every time he so much as looked her way.
And as she laid that night in bed cuddled snugly up against his firm chest, feeling his slow and even breaths tickling the back of her neck as her cramps seemed to fade effortlessly to the background with every passing moment, she couldn’t help but think that Yeah… Maybe giving up isn’t so bad after all.
⌥ ⌥ ⌥ ⌥ ⌥ ⌥ ⌥ ⌥ ⌥ ⌥ ⌥ ⌥ ⌥