Work Text:
The little plus sign taunted Daine.
As the daughter of a midwife, she knew that no birth control was ultimately infallible, but the number of precautions she and Numair had used...
...Of course, there had been that one time she had asked to go without the glove, just once, right before he had left for Cairo...
Seated on the toilet in his bathroom, she leaned sideways to thump her head on the vanity next to her. He was still in Cairo, which left her time to get her emotions under control before she had to tell him.
(The first of which was to decide if she wanted to go to her doctor with a complaint. Her implant was supposed to be good for another year.)
The thought of abortion crossed her mind, leaving a icy, sickening shock in its wake that nearly had her diving for the toilet all over again, and she hurriedly shoved it to the far back of her mind.
The thought of putting the baby up for adoption just made her want to cry—but plenty of things had made her want to cry in the past few weeks, so that wasn't special. The suspicion that she may attempt to store a butcher's knife inside whoever tried to take this child from her was, though, so she shelved that idea only slightly closer than the idea of abortion.
Which, of course, left her with the thought of motherhood.
It was terrifying, but it didn't feel so viscerally wrong as her other choices, so Daine folded her arms on the vanity, buried her face in them, and cried herself out.
Daine [10:37ᴘᴍ] — Good morning
Numair [10:47ᴘᴍ] — Good morning, sweetling.
Numair [10:48ᴘᴍ] — Work has three projects due today, so I likely won't be available this evening. I love you. ♥
Daine [10:48ᴘᴍ] — Got it.
Daine [10:48ᴘᴍ] — Good luck today
Daine [ᴅʀᴀꜰᴛ] — Can you come back soon? There's some⮜
Daine [ᴅʀᴀꜰᴛ] — Can you call later? I've got⮜
Daine [ᴅʀᴀꜰᴛ] — So what do you think about ki⮜
Daine [10:53ᴘᴍ] — I love you too
Telling Numair was an inevitability she wasn't looking forward to much.
It was only recently that she had admitted to herself that it was a relationship, not simply an incredibly close friendship that involved borderline cohabitation peppered with jokes about marriage and kisses over waffles (and, obviously, sex).
Neither of them had been particularly eager to tell anyone. Putting aside the fourteen year age difference, and the fact that he had been her mentor since she was thirteen, and everything, it was something that was—theirs.
(The thought of losing what they had because their friends found out and pointed out that there were people so much better for him than her—or simply thought their relationship was wrong and forced him to choose between her and all of them—was a different kind of terror than suddenly finding herself flat-footed by impending motherhood, but terror all the same.)
He deserved to know.
And it wasn't only that he deserved to know; it would be impossible for him not to know. God knew that the child she was about to bring into the world couldn't be mistaken as anyone else's.
Which, of course, also raised the question of how she was going to tell everyone else.
(Her mind slid right past how he might react. She couldn't deal with that right now. Possibly not ever—but, oh, she would have to, wouldn't she.)
That was as far as she got before her mind locked down, and her stomach growled out very loud, and she went to the kitchen to scrounge up something that hopefully wouldn't turn her stomach.
To her immense regret, it turned her stomach.
Daine [10:15ᴘᴍ] — Good morning ♥
Numair [10:59ᴘᴍ] — Love you
Numair [11:00ᴘᴍ] — Work bind. Talk to you soon
Numair [11:00ᴘᴍ] — ♥
Daine [11:01ᴘᴍ] — Good luck
Eventually, she decided that she should make a doctor's appointment for confirmation and then wait for Numair to come back home again and have his say before she made any announcements.
She wasn't thinking about what 'his say' would be. Take today as it is, deal with tomorrow... tomorrow.
'Today' was going on a quest for foods that didn't send her running to the bathroom on the smell alone, and it was to that end that she went shopping.
It took a week's worth of trial and error—thankfully one week where she could reasonably hole up and ignore everyone with the excuse of 'house-sitting' for Numair, who was out of the country—but she eventually found respite in grape-flavored items.
...A great deal of respite. It turned out that she could eat most foods—given they were low-fat enough—if they contained a few spoonfuls of grape jelly.
Looking at her grape, Dorito, and Catalina dressing sandwich, she somewhat ruefully noted that this was a rather blatant pregnancy craving, and resolved not to eat out with anyone in the near future.
If that meant dodging a few invitations an avoiding her concerned friends' texts, well... it was for a good cause, wasn't it?
Numair [2:03ᴘᴍ] — I have had the most terrible cravings for hamburgers all day
Numair [2:03ᴘᴍ] — Alas, any restaurant that may have sold them has long since closed by the time I got off.
Numair [2:04ᴘᴍ] — Eat one in my honor, if you will.
Daine [2:04ᴘᴍ] — Oh, lord no
Numair [2:04ᴘᴍ] — ???
Daine [ᴅʀᴀꜰᴛ] — Morning sickness is no joke, even a whiff sends me to the⮜
Daine [2:05ᴘᴍ] — Onua brought me one yesterday. Gave me the worst sort of food poisoning. I won't eat them for a long while yet.
Numair [2:05ᴘᴍ] — Why dß
Numair [2:06ᴘᴍ] — *why didn't you say anything about being sick?
Daine [2:07ᴘᴍ] — What good would it've done? You're not here
Daine [ᴅʀᴀꜰᴛ] — I wish you were. I miss you⮜
Daine [2:09ᴘᴍ] — Numair?
Numair [2:10ᴘᴍ] — Yes, sorry
Numair [2:11ᴘᴍ] — I forgot
Numair [2:12ᴘᴍ] — Stay hydrated.
Numair [2:12ᴘᴍ] — That's an order, my dear.
Daine [2:12ᴘᴍ] — Yeah, yeah 😋
Numair [2:13ᴘᴍ] — I love you.
Numair [2:13ᴘᴍ] — Look after yourself for me.
Numair [2:14ᴘᴍ] — I'll be back as soon as Jon lets me go. I'd hate to come home only to find my love has died of mysterious, sandwich-related causes.
Daine [2:14ᴘᴍ] — Worrier. ♥
Numair [2:15ᴘᴍ] — The hazards of falling in love with a beautiful woman as wonderfully bullheaded and charmingly foolhardy as you are... plentiful.
Daine [2:15ᴘᴍ] — Hey!
The wolves at the Long Lake Reserve, of course, knew immediately.
"Don't say a thing, hear?" she mumbled to Brokefang as she gave him his scritches. "It's a secret."
The massive timber wolf's tail wagged, wet nose carefully inspecting all of her before he delicately washed her cheek. The other wolves gathered around, sniffing and yipping softly, unwilling to roughhouse with her as they normally would, and Daine—
Daine just wanted to cry.
She found herself gently knocked over and then much more eagerly washed by several more tongues, wolf musk and thick pelts of all colors surrounding her, and the tears just happened, and then she was just sitting there, on the ground behind the main cabin, sobbing uncontrollably as she was fussed over by a very worried pack of wild wolves.
Her boss, a gruff, portly man with silver streaks in his black hair, simply looked at her, half-smiled—which, in old badger man-speak, was practically a beaming grin—and said, "My congratulations, kit."
Which sent off another round of waterworks; something Daine was none too happy with herself for, but was starting to accept as simply a facet of her life now.
"The sire is your stork-man, I presume?" he said gently, once he had provided her with herbal tea and the appropriate amount of grape jelly.
You could have lit kindling on Daine's face. "How did you—?"
The look he fixed her with made her feel unaccountably silly.
She swallowed hard and stirred her tea, chills working their way down her arms and another lump of tears in her throat. "Do you think everyone else knows, too?"
He snorted and sat back with his own tea. "Unlikely. Complacency is a thick hide to break."
"Then... how did you guess it?"
"I only know him from when you speak of him, and the look on your face when he comes to fetch you," he said dryly. "You don't even get that look for puppies." Then, squeezing her knee, he said more kindly, "It is a fortuitous thing, kit. Bringing about new life is no light undertaking for any creature, especially you two-leggers, but I am glad to see you do it. Your own kits will be glad to see the morning light."
As much as she wanted to make a comment on his insistence on using such ridiculous terms for everything, she was too busy leaking tears all over again.
The old badger-man graciously lent her his shoulder for the foreseeable future.
Numair [7:05ᴀᴍ] — Good morning, my love.
Numair [7:05ᴀᴍ] — I hope this day is as wonderful for you as the last.
Daine [10:32ᴀᴍ] — ♥
Daine [10:30ᴘᴍ] — Good morning. I hope work goes well today.
Numair [3:01ᴀᴍ] — ♥
Daine [5:22ᴀᴍ] — ♥
Numair [5:32ᴀᴍ] — My sweet, why are you awake?
Daine [ᴅʀᴀꜰᴛ] — Missed you⮜
Daine [ᴅʀᴀꜰᴛ] — Pregnancy's fair terrible. I slept until 3 and⮜
Daine [ᴅʀᴀꜰᴛ] — I miss you so much⮜
Daine [ᴅʀᴀꜰᴛ] — I don't know what to do⮜
Daine [ᴅʀᴀꜰᴛ] — Did you know you're going to be a fath⮜
Daine [ᴅʀᴀꜰᴛ] — Please come back. I can't⮜
Daine [6:12ᴀᴍ] — I couldn't sleep
Daine [6:12ᴀᴍ] — Love you
Numair [6:34ᴀᴍ] — I love you too.
Numair [6:34ᴀᴍ] — Now rest.
Daine [6:51ᴀᴍ] — ♥
Daine [10:35ᴘᴍ] — Good morning. What's Jon got you on today?
Daine [10:28ᴘᴍ] — Good morning
Daine [10:30ᴘᴍ] — Guess you're busy these days, huh
Daine [10:30ᴘᴍ] — I love you
Daine [10:00ᴘᴍ] — Numair?
Numair [2:32ᴀᴍ] — God, Daine, I'm so sorry
Numair [2:32ᴀᴍ] — It's been nearly nonstop all-nighters.
Numair [2:33ᴀᴍ] — I love you
Numair [2:33ᴀᴍ] — I hope I've not woken you
Numair [2:33ᴀᴍ] — I didn't realize it
Numair [2:33ᴀᴍ] — *had been so long
Numair [2:34ᴀᴍ] — I love you
Numair [2:34ᴀᴍ] — I hope you've been well
Numair [2:34ᴀᴍ] — I hope you have an absolutely lovely day, once it is day once again.
Numair [2:36ᴀᴍ] — I love you.
In the dark, Daine let the screen of her phone sear patterns into her vision while the words swam behind tears, then locked it, tossed it onto the bed beside her, and cried into her pillow until she fell asleep again.
Daine [11:17ᴀᴍ] — You said it three times, you dolt.
Daine [11:17ᴀᴍ] — One is plenty enough, don't you think?
Daine [11:17ᴀᴍ] — I love you too.
Daine [11:18ᴀᴍ] — See? Just once. It's not such a trouble.
Daine [11:18ᴀᴍ] — How was work today?
Numair [10:50ᴘᴍ] — Au contraire! Once is never enough. ;)
Numair [10:51ᴘᴍ] — I love you, I love you, I love you.
Numair [10:51ᴘᴍ] — I believe you'll find they come best in threes.
Numair [10:51ᴘᴍ] — It went well, once the whirlwind left us.
Numair [10:52ᴘᴍ] — I got to my bed and went right to sleep.
Numair [10:52ᴘᴍ] — May the sandman treat you just as sweetly, my love.
Numair [10:53ᴘᴍ] — (But not too sweetly, or I may have to get jealous. Very jealous indeed.)
Daine [11:10ᴘᴍ] — Don't worry
Daine [ᴅʀᴀꜰᴛ] — You know you're the only one for me ♥⮜
Daine [ᴅʀᴀꜰᴛ] — But this bed is so terribly cold without you :(⮜
Daine [ᴅʀᴀꜰᴛ] — But maybe *he'd⮜
Daine [ᴅʀᴀꜰᴛ] — I miss you too much. No one else⮜
Daine [11:15ᴘᴍ] — He doesn't have a thing on you. ;)
Daine [11:15ᴘᴍ] — Good luck at work today.
Numair [3:57ᴀᴍ] — ♥
Daine [10:11ᴘᴍ] — Good morning.
Daine [10:11ᴘᴍ] — Good luck at work today.
Daine [ᴅʀᴀꜰᴛ] — And you're gone again⮜
She managed not to linger by the baby section of the department store when she was there in company, but the next time, she nearly let her frozen goods thaw out as she lingered between the racks of footie pajamas, stroking blues and pinks and yellows, flannel and cotton, ducks and cars and bears.
She wondered what Numair would think if he were here, instead of Cairo, and then nearly started crying again as the ache of his absence sharpened into knives.
Months. Months she had been without her closest, dearest friend. Months she had been without her lover. Months she had been so painfully, horribly alone.
Even their texts had slowly been dwindling away into nothing, and the crawling, all-consuming panic it left her with was like nothing she had ever known.
It kept occurring to her in the dark of the night that he was with Varice, now. That Varice might be reminding him that there were far better women in the world for him. That the last time Varice had been in America, she had spent every night in his bed, as many years ago as that had been.
Numair was too honorable to cheat. Numair still smiled at her like that over their video calls, like she was the only person left in the world that ever mattered, even when he was somewhere where anyone could see him. Numair never once hesitated to tell her he loved her.
That had to be enough... right?
As she wandered through the shelves, she wondered what would happen if she texted him to ask his opinions on baby shoes.
Would he wonder why she was asking?
Would he wonder enough to ask?
Or would he just take it as an opportunity to divulge all the things he had learned about footwear for infants and leave her with walls of text to sort through.
The prospect (and very high likelihood) that it would be the last had her reaching for her phone and retyping the question several times before she lost her nerve and deleted it.
(Would he even want her, like this? Now that she was going to be a responsibility, not just... whatever they were.
She couldn't breathe around the thought for a long moment, in more physical pain than she could remember ever having been before, then she forced it back onto that shelf in her mind that was starting to overflow with all the things she wasn't thinking about.)
She left with nothing more than groceries, melted grape popsicles and broccoli and a carton of milk she would never be able to finish on her own making their way into Numair's fridge without further issue.
Daine [4:23ᴘᴍ] — Update: There's a leak under the sink. I've called the plumber, and it should be fixed by the weekend.
Her mother didn't leave her to her own devices forever; she put her foot down and demanded Daine at least visit home for a bit—Numair's house would survive a night or two alone!
Despite her terror that her mother would take one look at her and call it, Sarra seemed entirely absorbed in her amour of the moment, and Daine was all too happy to hear her mother out if it meant that she wouldn't pay heed to the ten pounds Daine had gained in recent times or her frequent trips to the bathroom.
She talked herself out, leaving Daine with much more information than she ever wanted to have, then said, "And you, sweetling? Where's the romance in your neck of the woods?"
Daine pushed her dinner around her plate (very much lacking in grape items but thankfully containing nothing overtly offensive) and made herself smile. "None for me, Ma. You know how it is."
Sarra had never once in her life known 'how it was', Daine was certain, but she sighed and said, "Oh, darling. I need grandchildren one day! Hakkon—you know Hakkon—his nephew is right about your age, and just as unromantic as you are. You'd get along so wonderfully, I'm sure."
Daine pushed down the urge to be sick into her potatoes and greens and chicken and wondered if her Ma would ask if she thumped her head on the table until it blessed her with sweet unconsciousness. "I'm fine, Ma. Really."
"He'll be in town next week..." Sarra cajoled.
"Maybe after Numair is back—I am still busy house-sitting," Daine said, spearing a potato and wishing she were half so skilled in sleight-of-hand as he was; it was getting more and more obvious that none of the food had left her plate.
Sarra huffed, but thankfully didn't press.
She couldn't hide her lack of appetite and light illness and heightened need for sleep forever, of course, but Sarra didn't guess pregnancy—Daine had no lovers, after all—and just let her off with promises to get it checked out with a doctor as soon as possible.
Which Daine did, as she was due for her 10-week checkup. She just... conveniently forgot to tell her Ma that.
Numair [10:20ᴘᴍ] — And how do you fare, my love?
Numair [10:20ᴘᴍ] — It feels like forever since I've heard.
Daine [10:21ᴘᴍ] — I'm fine
Daine [10:21ᴘᴍ] — I had a doctor's appointment today
Numair [10:21ᴘᴍ] — Doctor?
Numair [10:21ᴘᴍ] — You're not due for your yearly checkup for another four months
Numair [10:22ᴘᴍ] — What happened?
Daine [ᴅʀᴀꜰᴛ] — You knocked me up, idiot. Strange how that happ⮜
Numair [10:23ᴘᴍ] — Daine?
Daine [10:23ᴘᴍ] — I haven't been feeling well
Numair [10:23ᴘᴍ] — What?
Daine [10:24ᴘᴍ] — I wanted to make sure nothing was wrong
Daine [10:24ᴘᴍ] — Nothing's wrong
Daine [ᴅʀᴀꜰᴛ] — With me or the bab⮜
Daine [ᴅʀᴀꜰᴛ] — Just an assault of motherhood. It's mighty uncomfort⮜
Daine [10:25ᴘᴍ] — I swear
Daine [10:26ᴘᴍ] — They told me to eat better and stay hydrated
Daine [ᴅʀᴀꜰᴛ] — I'm even allowed to have all the grape jelly I desire⮜
Daine [10:26ᴘᴍ] — It'll pass on its own
Numair [10:26ᴘᴍ] — "Eat better"?
Numair [10:27ᴘᴍ] — Why are they worried about your nutrition? Daine, *what happened*?
Daine [ᴅʀᴀꜰᴛ] — Eating for two is⮜
Daine [10:27ᴘᴍ] — I'm *fine*
Daine [10:28ᴘᴍ] — The food poisoning. And I've been feeling a bit dizzy during Rider practice
Numair [10:28ᴘᴍ] — Daine.
Daine [10:28ᴘᴍ] — I'm fine
Daine [10:28ᴘᴍ] — I just need rest
Daine [10:28ᴘᴍ] — I promise
Numair [10:29ᴘᴍ] — "Need rest"?
Numair [10:31ᴘᴍ] — You know
Numair [10:31ᴘᴍ] — I'm not sure I've ever hated being away more.
Daine [ᴅʀᴀꜰᴛ] — You and me both⮜
"Does anyone know when Numair'll be back?" said Miri, stirring her tea with a biscotti two weeks later. "I swear he's been gone forever."
She, Alanna, Daine, and Onua were seated around an outdoor table at a cafe, enjoying tea and baked goods together as they caught up on one another's lives. Daine was still keeping mum on her own and the life that was about to join it, but she enjoyed hearing from her friends.
Thankfully, the nausea had been getting better, and nobody looked at her sideways for piling her own pastry as high on grape jam as she could manage.
(Tragically, there was no way she could slip grape shots into her latte, but had managed to get three times the usual amount of soy milk, which was, thankfully, staying down.)
Alanna sighed. "Honestly, he was supposed to be back next week, but I swear, if Jon doesn't stop piling work on him, he's going to be there for months."
Daine's blood turned to ice, her gorge rising. He had told her he had been held up for a bit, but not...
"Oh no-o-o..." Miri drew out, grinning. She elbowed Daine in the side. "You'll be trapped house-sitting for ages!" Then she did a double-take. "Oh, no, I'm sorry, Daine. I didn't mean it like that—"
The others looked alarmed too, Alanna half-rising from her seat and Onua setting down her pastry in favor of gripping Daine's shoulder.
"Fine!" Daine squeaked, her voice cracking twice on the same word. She cleared her throat and wiped her stinging eyes hurriedly. "I-I'm fine. It just—surprised me. He said he would be a bit longer, not—" Her voice cracked again, and she cleared her throat again, more impatiently that time. "—not months."
Her friends were still all looking at her like she'd sprouted a few more heads.
"It was an exaggeration," said Alanna. "I'm sure it won't be actual months—Daine? Is everything alright?"
"It's that time of month," she said by way of excuse, and managed a watery smile. "Maybe I should go home; I'm not going to be any fun for a while."
"Daine..."
She waved them off, picked up her things, and bolted.
She made the mistake of attempting to cut between two restaurant buildings, and found herself lurching into one with her hand clamped over her mouth, hurrying into the bathroom.
Once her brunch and breakfast had been ejected, she staggered upright and leaned over the sink, staring at her wan face, the way her hands trembled on the vanity and the way she swam in her clothes.
Thank goodness, she couldn't help but think, thank goodness Numair hadn't tried to video call lately.
He would have taken one look at her and booked a flight home then and there.
She cried herself out when she got home (to Numair's house, which had always felt more like home than anywhere else, right from the start), and then cried more when she found that she was just starting to show.
It was frustrating—it seemed less that she was having a baby and more that she was turning into a baby herself, but there really wasn't anything for it but to ford through.
It didn't help that Numair was steadily getting more and more buried in his work. The thread of reassurance she got from him wore thinner and thinner as time went on, and her darkest fears got louder and louder.
Nothing for it but to ford through.
Numair [8:15ᴀᴍ] — Good morning, my love.
Numair [8:16ᴀᴍ] — I hope you're feeling better today.
Numair [8:16ᴀᴍ] — Remember to take care of yourself.
Numair [8:16ᴀᴍ] — For me. Please?
Numair [8:16ᴀᴍ] — I love you.
The next day, at exactly three months, she got her first ultrasound.
Her baby had a heartbeat.
One of the technicians gave her a gentle smile as he wiped her stomach free of the gel. "A new life is a wonderful thing."
She nodded, dazed.
It was only now, after all the discomfort and aimless fear and lurking nightmares and doubt, that it was starting to sink in that she had a very small human inside of her. A very small person who she was going to carry in her womb for another six months, and then bring into the world and try to raise as best she could, come hell or high water.
And she might have to do it alone, just as her mother had.
"It's not too late, you know," said the technician. Gentleness had been replaced by worry. "Abortions can be carried out up until the end of the second trimester."
She looked up, ice in her veins and burning up from head to toe in an unholy combination of panic, rage, and revulsion, entirely bereft of words.
The technician raised his hands in surrender. "Just thought you should know. Don't shoot the messenger."
If she couldn't claim more than the bare minimum of politeness as she finished up her visit, well, she wasn't sure she could have managed more.
The sonogram pictures were handed to her on the way out, and she spread them out on the kitchen table once she got back to Numair's house.
That was her child.
She pressed her hand over the slight swell, the reality of it sinking in all over again.
For the first time since she'd learned of her pregnancy, she allowed herself to imagine beyond today, a family all her own, trying to rear a child—bright laughter and irrational tantrums and trying to keep her mother's influence as light as possible. Figuring out how she was going to feed them both and finding schools that weren't too shady. Roughhousing and board games and teaching a reluctant student to read.
...Better than the schools her mother sent her to. Better food, safer games, more thorough preparation that it didn't ever have to learn the hard way.
Not the way Daine had.
This child would never look at her and wonder just how much better her life would be without it. Would never need to juggle adult responsibilities to look after a mother who spent half her time fucked out and the other high as a kite, with a grandfather whose health was deteriorating faster than his veteran's insurance could keep up. Would never need to stumble into an extended family at the age of thirteen-going-on-thirty who gave it the guidance and support it had so desperately needed.
(She had been barely fifteen when she had started spending more time at Numair's house than anywhere else; he had been the one person who had been willing to give her the attention and stability and peace she had never known, whose livelihood she didn't need to worry about any more deeply than what she was going to make them for dinner.
Her child wouldn't need the kind of luck that led her to him. She swore it.)
There was a panic settling into her veins as she looked at the blurry black-and-white pictures—wondering how on earth she was going to manage that, when Numair might take one look at her and decide he was done, when he was the only reason she had made it as far as she had, when she couldn't imagine a life without him in it—
(He would be a good father. He would be the best father there was. He would love being a father, if only he gave it a chance.)
If he had put up with her for the nine years since, he could put up with her a bit longer. Just until she got her feet under her again.
Right?
The knowledge that this was his child couldn't ruin things so badly... right?
(Her own father hadn't stuck around even long enough to see her birth.)
There was water on her face as she wrestled her phone out of her pocket, swiping away all her notifications without checking them, her eyes blurring almost too badly to pick out his contact.
He didn't pick up.
It was three ᴀᴍ in Cairo, and she knew—she knew that he had likely gotten home only an hour or two ago and promptly passed out on the couch—she knew she knew she knew—
She tried again, and again, and again, and gave up on the fifth time she got his answering machine. She let the whole thing play out, desperate for even just this little bit of his voice, then ended the call before it got to the beep, buried her face in her arms, and sobbed.
Some indeterminable time later, when her throat was raw and everything was hazy and her sobbing had trailed off into drained apathy, the doorbell rang.
She ignored it.
It rang again.
She ignored it that time too.
An impatient series of three rings went similarly ignored, then the person outside shouted something incomprehensible, then went away.
A few moments peace, and then someone fitted a key into the lock and pushed the door open.
"Daine?" Alanna shouted from the door. "I'm coming in!"
Daine looked up, decided that it didn't require a call to 911, and dropped her head back into her arms.
"Daine?" said Alanna, softer this time. She approached Daine at a businesslike pace, then paused beside her. Deft, steady hands spread out the sonogram pictures and after-visit summary, and then she drew in a breath through her teeth. "Oh..."
Then she knelt beside Daine's chair and pulled her into a fierce hug, and Daine discovered that she hadn't spent all of her tears, actually.
"I was worried after you left lunch like that," the older woman murmured over Daine's sobs. "You weren't answering your phone, either, so I came to check on you, in case something had happened. Looks like something did happen after all."
Daine simply clung.
When she eventually came down, she felt much better than she had the first time, still frightened but not quite so hopeless.
"No wonder you cried so at Numair being gone for so long," Alanna said. Then, before Daine could react to her knowing, she drew a second chair over and added, "Pregnancy makes everything so sharp, and you must be missing him terribly. You two've always been thick as thieves." She kissed Daine's hair, unusually gentle. "May I ask who the father is?"
Daine hesitated, then shook her head.
"No matter who it is, or what happened, we will support you, no matter what," said Alanna, giving her a fierce squeeze. "Pregnancy is... terrifying, even when you have everything in the world going for you. I'm here. So is Thayet. So is Onua. Once Numair gets back, he will be too. You won't be alone. We'll make certain of it."
Daine nodded calmly, then promptly burst into tears again.
Alanna fed her all the grape flavored items she could want, then asked rather straightforwardly whether or not the event of the baby's conception had been consensual, and then, on Daine's blushing, squirming, very much so, Lioness, cross my heart, whether the baby's father would enter into the equation.
Thinking about it had Daine (somewhat resentfully) back in tears, to which Alanna held her, shushing her and promising not to bring it up again.
She then asked whether Daine had thought about possible names, and what plans she did have, especially in regards to the vet school she had been planning to apply for at the end of the year, then promised to take her shopping for maternity clothes the day afterwards.
It was several hours later that she left, leaving Daine feeling steadier in herself and more confident than she had been since she'd learned of her child.
Come what may, she wasn't alone. Even if Numair wanted nothing to do with her (very, very, very unlikely, Alanna had said dryly; if anything, he probably wouldn't give her a moment's peace), she still had people. Friends. Friends who loved her, women who had done this before and knew what it was like, men who were fathers and could help almost as much, peers who would be excited for her no matter what.
She wasn't alone.
It was with that thought that she showered and got ready for bed, ruefully musing that it was good that Alanna was going to be taking her shopping tomorrow—her already-snug sleepwear was uncomfortably tight around her stomach and kept trying to slide up. She left them and found one of Numair's old shirts to sleep in, for sentimentality and practicality both.
His room was rich in the memory of waking to his embrace and groggy clinginess, the full solidity and firm muscle, his heart beating steadily in his chest and his sleep-evened warmth. His fine sheets greeted her, cool and silken as she slipped between them.
Somewhat guiltily, she took her phone off silent and plugged it in to charge. No more missed calls for her.
She had just fully bedded down, reveling in the faint scent of his still clinging to the sheets, when it rang.
She rose partially, staring at the offending piece of tech in bafflement, then picked it up.
It was 10:55ᴘᴍ, and Numair Salmalín was calling.
Several hours too late, she remembered her earlier panic attack.
...Oops.
She tapped the screen to accept the call, her face red.
"Daine?" Numair rasped almost before she'd gotten the phone to her ear. "Daine, what happened? What's wrong? Are you—what happened?"
"I'm fine," she said, face growing hotter. She placed her hand over the baby, protective and soothed at once by the sound of his voice. "Sorry, I... I was..." She didn't have a very good excuse. She wished she had spent a few of the past several hours thinking of one.
"You called five times, Daine! Is anyone hurt? Dead?"
"No one's hurt, everybody's fine," she said again, her face hotter than ever. She laid back down fully. "I'm—I'm sorry. I was... having a moment."
"...A moment?"
"I missed you." I needed you. "I'm sorry. It was—silliness. Just silliness. I know your work there's fair important. I didn't mean to disturb you." There was a raw edge to her voice, despite her best efforts. She missed him so much. The tickle of primal fear that he would be gone as soon as he found out what he had done to her lingered, but it was rapidly overtaken by the tides of longing she had been tamping back this whole time. "You've been gone almost three months. Alanna said you might be gone even longer, and I... I just wished you were here." Her voice crackled on the last bit, tears streaking away from the corners of her eyes into her hair.
(It was a good thing she could still drink water, she thought ruefully, or she would be very dehydrated indeed.)
She spent the next few seconds struggling to get herself under control while he was silent on the other end of the line.
"Sunday."
She paused in the middle of scrubbing away her tears. "What?"
"I'll be back Sunday." There was a strange note in his voice, almost like the one he got when he was terribly angry, except... not. Hard, flat, a mere statement of fact. "I didn't realize I'd been away so long." He chuckled roughly, humorlessly. "I've missed you like breathing, Daine. I had no idea it had been so long. Time... doesn't feel real."
There was a second part to that, but whatever he had been going to say, he didn't say it. Daine tried to keep her sniffles quiet, but wasn't sure how well she managed.
After many moments, she said, "His majesty's not going to be very happy with you, you know."
"He'll live," said Numair, his voice like iron, and Daine managed a watery smile, even if he couldn't see her.
"...Sunday?"
"Sunday."
"Your bed—" Her voice cracked. "—it's lonely without you."
The silence on the other end of the line went on long enough to make her frown at her screen to make sure she hadn't accidentally disconnected, then he made a funny cough-choking noise and said wryly, "I'd ask what you're wearing, but I think I need to be capable of thought today."
Heat tingled low in her belly, surprising her. She hadn't felt like this since...
...Since he'd left.
Fear, impulse, desire all teamed up on her, and, "Your shirt," was out of her mouth before she could catch it.
Silence, but maybe she knew how to interpret it this time.
She grinned at her phone and squirmed out of her underwear. "The black one with the Socrates quote—education is the kindling of a flame, not the filling of a vessel? Nothing else."
(...The baby she was now growing excepted.)
Another silence, and then he spoke, strained. "There are... things... that could be said in response to that."
"What a pity you're too polite to say them," she teased, dropping her hand back to her stomach. Wistfully, it crossed her mind that she could announce the creation of their child by telling him he had already filled this particular vessel quite well, if only the circumstances were different.
He groaned in a way she knew meant that he was grinning too. "There was a reason I wasn't going to ask, you know."
She hummed, unrepentant, dragging her nails over her abdomen. "Sunday?" That was five days from now.
"Sunday." He sighed. "I love you."
For how much longer? sprang out of the murk in her head, but she swallowed down the lump in her throat enough to answer, "I love you too."
"Sleep well, my sweet."
"...Mm."
She pulled the phone away from her ear and turned it off before she could give into the temptation to keep him on the line for as long as possible.
It was fine. It would be fine. Numair wouldn't—
The act would be up, once he got back. He would know it was his. He would know that once the baby was born, it would be impossible to mistake it as anyone's but his. Whatever they had been doing to keep their relationship a secret would be null and void.
He had good reasons to want to hide it, and she...
She had been the one to mess it all up.
She'd be fine. She would be. And so would her baby.
She would make sure of it.
Alanna took her shopping for maternity clothing, as promised, and Thayet came along, once Alanna had gotten the okay from Daine. The mother of six, Thayet had a great deal of experience in these topics, and answered all of Daine’s shy questions about the things she didn't want to go to her own mother with.
Alanna, she found, had strong opinions on strollers, while Thayet was meticulous about linens. Some toys were unanimously rejected while others were points of contention. Thayet had breastfed all of her six while Alanna had weaned all three of hers early (George was the housespouse in their relationship), and both of them had much to say on the topic.
They both pointed out that Daine had a little bit of time in deciding where she was going to set up her nursery, but she would do well to decide before the late third trimester, when the nesting urges would hit her in full.
Both suggested that she wait for Numair's return, because he might be willing to put her up—permanently.
Neither of them minced their words around her, and neither of them seemed to have caught on to just who the father of her child could be. They simply thought that Numair, as one of the people closest to her, as the person she had been fused to by the hip since she was thirteen, might be happy to have her and her new baby around, like his bachelor status meant nothing.
Alanna waved her off when she carefully pointed that out. "That man adores you. It may be easier for you than managing under your dear Ma's roof. It's hardly a sure thing, it's true, but he'd fetch the moon and track down all the stars for you if you asked. It would be a better situation for you and the little one than any of the rest of us. Ask him once he gets back."
Daine promised, subdued, then asked about baby shoes—a gamble on their contentiousness that promptly paid off.
She still wondered what Numair would think about baby shoes, but knew that he was busy. Thayet had sighed about Numair demanding her husband's immediate presence and assistance, and how she was going to have to give up Buri to the demands of the company too, soon.
Apparently, neither of the women knew it was almost certainly because Daine had asked him to come back.
The day passed pleasantly, the lingering heartache aside. Thayet bought her a bottle of jam and handed her it and a spoon, and Daine would have hugged her if she could. The better she felt, the more achy and ravenous she felt, too.
She promptly lost it all again upon walking past the candle isle, but Thayet got her another one while Alanna held her and rubbed her back, and all was going to be fine.
Over the next few days, her friends found out one by one, with reactions that almost unanimously started out congratulatory, then quietly checked to make certain that there was no one any of them needed to murder for violating her, then swinging back to congratulatory once she assured them that there wasn't.
The only one who broke the pattern was George, who congratulated her, and then told her in an undertone that Numair would be happy to take responsibility, whenever she cared to tell him.
Not much got past George, she supposed, sheepish.
To her surprise, everyone else agreed with Alanna and Thayet's suggestion that she ask Numair if she and her new baby could move in with him, too.
No matter how many people she ran it past as utterly ridiculous, he adores you remained the general, uncritical consensus. Onua pointed out that it wasn't even as though he disliked children, so that would hardly compete with his immense fondness for her. Miri snorted and told her he might marry her outright if it would make her feel better. Kalasin shrugged and said, "No duh." Sarge said that Numair was practically born to be a father, and she'd be doing him a favor, really.
Kaddar gave her the driest look known to mankind and told her that the only possible issue Numair could have with the situation would be that he wasn't—and cut himself off there, coughed, and very badly covered up his last two words ('the father') with a brush-off and a change of subject.
Upon Daine rambling to her about this unbelievable state of affairs over dinner, Maura contemplated her plate for a long moment, then reminded her of the time he had made certain (indirectly) that Tristan Staghorn would hospitalized and then jailed for several years for the crime of daring to strike Daine. She had been only fourteen then, and he hadn't exactly cared for her any less since.
Apparently, it was common knowledge that her secret lover loved her dearly.
The reassurance helped. She had five days to feel her panic build—five days of Numair shutting off all means of communication except for the updates an amused Jon relayed to them.
It would seem that his best employee was downright obsessed with finishing up all the work Jon had given him in Cairo, had threatened to quit if Jon tried to give him more, and then blackmailed said boss into making sure it was complete himself.
Five days of getting hungrier and hungrier, keeping more food down and gaining weight again; five days of accepting that she could no longer lay on her stomach because her breasts ached; five days of air hitting her lungs as the world cleared up again, no longer distant through a horrible fog.
Five days of toying with her own phone, wondering if she should try to text him a heads up of the situation, or if she should just leave it for whenever she managed to see him, typing and typing and retyping the news in a hundred different ways before deleting them all.
The baby, her baby, maybe even their baby—it had a heartbeat.
And every one of those five nights, she cried herself to sleep with that inescapable knowledge.
The day, hour, minute eventually came that Numair would get back.
Alanna and Thayet were in charge of the retrieval—Jon and Buri were getting back on a separate flight from Numair's, and the three of them would have enough luggage to warrant two cars—and Alanna stopped by Numair's house to pick Daine up on their way over.
"Come on, youngster," the woman said as she bundled Daine into her backseat. "You, at least, should be one of the first to see him back."
Daine, unable to articulate just how much that terrified her, allowed herself to be bundled, and tried not to succumb to the panic on the way there.
The need for a bathroom struck no less than three times while they waited outside the gates: twice before Jon and Buri arrived, and then once again after their enthusiastic hellos had all been said and they all settled in to wait for Numair.
Both Jon and Buri fell into the same pattern as everyone else—initial congratulations, a quick check to make sure there was no need for manslaughter, and then much more heartfelt congratulations—with Jon mentioning that it was a shock, and how Numair hadn't said a thing about it.
"Well, Numair—" she started, then found her throat too clogged to continue.
"She hasn't had the chance to tell him yet," said Thayet, coming to her rescue. "The rest of us only found out a few days ago."
"It's only surprising you didn't tell him first," said Jon, mildly amused and entirely oblivious. "I think this might be the first time we've found out anything about you before he did."
Daine swallowed the lump in her throat and forced a smile.
"Peckish?" he asked sympathetically. He had been by Thayet's side for all of their six babies, Daine supposed.
"Bathroom," she replied, and managed to escape without further interrogation.
The conversation had moved on by the time she got back, thank goodness, and it was only about five (eternal) minutes before Numair walked up the ramp, at least half a head above everyone else, his steps slow and exhausted, then he looked up, found her in the crowd, smiled—
Suddenly, she was sprinting for the barrier gate, unable to bear the separation even a second longer.
He was two feet clear of it when she tackled him.
He picked her up and spun her around, squeezing her tight enough to make her sore breasts truly hurt, but it didn't matter.
Nothing mattered, nothing at all except the smell of his skin, the travel musk, the size and shape of him, the low groan of relief, the overgrown scruff scraping her temple, the pound of his heart through his worn knit sweater—
He froze. Keeping a tight grip on her with one arm, he let go of her with the other and felt her stomach.
An icy shock of terror lanced through her veins as he found her burden, then he put his lips to her ear and rasped, "Mine?"
She nodded, just the tiniest dip of her chin, and whispered, "No one else's it could be."
They'd have to sort all this out later, she knew, but now that he was in her arms, nothing seemed impossible. They would need to discuss how secret the baby would be, of course, and, really, they could come up with any number of excuses as to why it looked just like him. She wasn't sure why she had been so panicked. Together, they could—
He let go of her, grabbed her shoulders, and forced her away.
And then, in full view of their friends—lord, the whole airport—he grabbed her face and kissed her very, very thoroughly.
Daine reeled.
He broke the kiss equally abruptly, right as her knees were about to go out from under her, and looked at her with tears in his eyes.
"Okay," he croaked, shaking her shoulders, "now will you marry me?"
"What?" she squeaked. Their friends, coming up behind him, had stumbled to a halt.
"Marry me," he said with an intensity that shivered down her spine. His dark eyes were fervid. "Please, Daine—Veralidaine Sarrasri, will you marry me?"
"Um," she said, suddenly much dizzier than she had been a moment prior. "Isn't—isn't this a bit sudden?"
He stared at her even harder, somehow. "I have been asking you to marry me at least once a week for four years now."
"Those—those were jokes," she said weakly.
Numair shook her again, tension trembling in his hands. "They were not jokes."
"What?" she asked again, dazed. "We're—Numair, we're making a scene—"
"Frankly, I do not give a damn," he said brightly. The gleam in his eye was downright manic. "I have asked you nearly every day for four years, and you've put me off every time—except now you've made me a father. If this doesn't force your hand, I don't know what will. So, Daine, please: yes, or no?"
She blinked rapidly, floundering. "But—"
"We aren't moving from this spot until I hear one or the other."
Finally, finally, finally, what he was saying finally started to sink in.
He wanted to marry her. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. He had wanted to marry her for... a while.
He didn't want to leave.
He wanted to do the opposite of leave.
He wanted to stay, and stay in the most permanent manner legally possible.
(He wanted her, he wanted the baby, he wanted to stay stay stay stay—)
"You... really wanted to?" she whispered, her voice crackling. Her knees were weak all over again, her heart beating hummingbird's wings against the inside of her ribcage.
"Yes." That one word held more exasperation than she had ever heard him express before.
Her baby was too small yet to express an opinion, but she rather felt like it might be, right about now. Very positive opinions.
Tears pickling in her own eyes now, she rasped, "Yes. I'll—I'll marry you. I l—"
That was as far as she got before Numair was kissing her again, very thoroughly, frantic and messy, entirely lacking in finesse but so incredibly fervent that she was clinging to him for support in seconds.
He broke the kiss, and then she yelped—he'd picked her up and started spinning her around, laughing giddily, careless of the way her heel thumped into some poor flyer's carry-on bag.
"We're making a scene—"
"Don't care," he said blithely, a strange ragged edge to the words. "You said yes." Then he let out a much louder laugh. "She said yes!"
Daine allowed herself a moment to bury her face in his shoulder and giggle at the sheer glee in his voice (oh, oh, oh) then started squirming for him to put her down so she could drag him out of the flow of foot traffic. There were tears on his face that he dashed once he had a free hand to do it.
He gripped her hand as she pulled him along. It was the only way he would let her go enough to walk.
"Um, hello," said Alanna as they approached the group. From the way her expression was twisted, she had no idea how to take this turn of events. "How... was the flight?"
"She said yes," Numair informed her breathlessly. There was a dopey grin on his face. "I'm a father—going to be a father—we're—she said yes."
"I... see," said Alanna. Her eyebrows were approaching her hairline. "And the flight?"
"Don't know. Don't care." He yanked Daine to him and kissed her hair quite firmly, his large hand clutching first at her waist, then at the slight rise of her abdomen. "If I'm dreaming, don't wake me up. Ever. I'll never forgive you."
Daine's cheeks flamed scarlet.
"Oh... 'kay," said Buri slowly. Out of the side of her mouth, to the rest of the group: "I don't think we're getting anything else out of him for a while."
"Quite," said Thayet, who seemed to be adjusting the quickest. Her smile was bemused and not particularly damning. "Should we find the baggage claim?"
"Didn't bring anything," said Numair with a shake of his head, then tossed his own carry-on bag to Jon, who fumbled it gracelessly but kept it from hitting the ground. "Everything you want's in there. Done. Spent the flight doing it. Don't speak to me or my fiancée for a week. Two weeks. However many days of vacation I have saved."
Jon regarded the bag, smiling ruefully. "Fair enough."
"Great," said Numair on a great big sigh, then pulled Daine close and kissed the crown of her head again. Then, resting his face there, he started to laugh again, too. "We're having a baby. I'm going to be a father. She. Said. Yes."
Daine smiled at the group, red-cheeked, her heart pounding so hard it hurt and her face starting to ache.
"Alright, lovebirds," Alanna sighed. "I'm the one who's to drive you two home. Come along." Under her breath, she added, "And try not to defile my backseat."
They managed not to defile Alanna's backseat, though they spent the whole ride as entwined as their clothes would let them be.
Numair was asleep by the time they got to his house, and Alanna had to help Daine carry him up to the front door. They were both athletic women, but two hundred and eighty pounds of deadweight was a formidable task all the same.
When he had been deposited in bed and most of his clothing had been removed, Daine walked Alanna back to the door.
The older woman tugged her through as well, then stood on the porch across from her with a somber look.
"Daine... might I ask when the relationship between the two of you began?"
Daine's heart lurched, then skipped another two beats.
"Oh, don't look like that," she sighed, setting her hands on her hips. She gave Daine a rueful smile. "That's the happiest I've seen you in months. I care about you—we all do. I think himself back there would die before hurting you, and not a bit of that would be exaggeration. I just..."
"Four years ago, mum," Daine said. "A few months after my twentieth."
(It wasn't... entirely a lie. She just thought it would be prudent not to mention that the first time she had gotten drunk, when she was sixteen, she had kissed him on a dare, or that she'd celebrated her eighteenth birthday by trying to spend the night in his bed, or all those heady moments between when their eyes would meet and they both just knew.
And then had proceeded to pretend that they didn't know, because attraction had its time and place, and it wasn't for them.
Until it was.)
(She was going to get married.)
Alanna eyed her, but if she sensed the half-truth, she didn't call her on it. "Why did you never tell anyone?"
Daine gave her a dry look.
Alanna tilted her head in acknowledgement, then sighed again. "You would tell me if anything went wrong, wouldn't you? You know I'll have your back." Then she looked at Daine's face, her gaze narrowing. Slowly, she added, "Or I might have his, if it's necessary."
At that, Daine finally relaxed.
(The fear of Numair being blamed for her follies—especially those made purely in emotion, before she had had the chance to think them through, especially the ones she made in haste or in error, especially the ones where both of them repented and neither could let go—had been one of the biggest reasons she had guarded this secret so tightly.)
"I'll help you, whatever it is." A wry smile twisted the older woman's lips. "It's been right there, right from the start, that you care deeply for one another. I won't jump to conclusions. Cross my heart."
"Thank you, mum."
"So you'll be moving in here, I take it?"
"If he'll have me," Daine said hesitantly, then immediately felt silly. It wouldn't make sense for a married couple to live separately.
Alanna snorted, making her feel even sillier. "I meant it even before all of this came out, I'll have you know. He loves you."
Daine, remembering all the filthy, wonderful things he'd whispered in her ear late at night and the purely adoring things he'd said to her in the morning light and starting to wonder if it hadn't just been all sweet talk, just blushed.
After she bid Alanna goodnight, she stripped off all her outer clothing until she was in her loose maternity shirt and panties, and then slipped into bed beside him.
She couldn't say how long she spent simply drinking his features in, tracing every line and combing through his hair, only that her bladder demanded attention at least twice before she finally found it in her to lie down and sleep.
The next morning—or afternoon, really, after a great deal of kissing and a reluctant concession to breakfast—Numair dug out the ring he'd been keeping for her, slid it onto her left ring finger, stared at it for so long she started to worry, and then kissed it, followed her arm up to her throat, and dragged her right back to bed.
"Can't believe I was so worried," she sighed between rounds (how many rounds, she was starting to lose track), then cut off with a groan and a shiver as he rubbed his scruff into the sensitive crook of her neck.
"I can't believe you thought I was joking for four years, myself," he said pointedly, then ruined the effect by nuzzling into her like a cat and curling around her tighter as he caressed her stomach. She could feel his giddy smile start to grow again, pressed into her skin as it was, just as it had every time he touched her stomach before. "Daine..."
She squirmed in his hold until she could kiss him again, her own smile starting to ache. When they parted, she had to check: "So... I can stay? Move in, I mean?"
He pounced on her with only the sparest delicacy for her aches and growing pains. How he still had the energy for it was beyond her. "If you don't move in, I'll kidnap you myself," he swore breathlessly, and then, lo, more kisses.
Many more kisses.
More sex, too, before she had to tap out to eat (more grape jelly right out of the jar, while Numair tried to convince her to have protein with it), then shower (he didn't give her any peace for that, either), then change the thoroughly disgusting sheets on the bed (he was very useful there), and then more cuddling and more food while he drew the sources of all her fears out of her and assuaged them one by one.
He loved her, loved her, loved her, and he wasn't leaving her or their child. Ever.
And then she asked him about baby shoes, and, just like she'd thought he would, he had a great deal to expound on the topic, their history and makes and health benefits and drawbacks, and she drifted off to sleep to the sound of his voice.
Numair [6:05ᴀᴍ] — Good morning, my lovely future wife.
Numair [6:05ᴀᴍ] — May this day be every bit as wonderful for you as the last.
Daine [9:50ᴀᴍ] — Six am? Numair, you need sleep
Daine [9:50ᴀᴍ] — Where are you now?
Numair [9:51ᴀᴍ] — No "I love you, dearest future husband"?
As she woke up further, Daine heard water running in the kitchen, then the squeak of the faucet, and something deep inside her unclenched, unfurling into hunger both metaphorical and literal as the scent of breakfast started to register as well.
Daine [9:51ᴀᴍ] — I do believe some things are said better in person
Daine [9:52ᴀᴍ] — ♥
Numair [9:52ᴀᴍ] — 3msæ
She grinned into her pillow at the clatter of someone fumbling his phone and muttering a curse.
Numair [9:52ᴀᴍ] — I see
Daine [ᴅʀᴀꜰᴛ] — Such a pity my lover isn'⮜
Daine [9:53ᴀᴍ] — Such a pity my future husband isn't here *in bed* to say them to
Daine [9:53ᴀᴍ] — 🥺💔
"You're a menace," Numair informed her from the doorway, but came to her when she reached for him, immediately crawling over her. "A lovely menace though you are."
She twined her arms around his neck and dragged him closer. "And here I thought you did quite well for yourself, dearest future husb-mmph. Mm..."
She didn't quite manage to convince him to get more sleep, but she found herself quite satisfied with the alternative.
And for the first time since she heard the news, she didn't shed a single tear.