Work Text:
It’s like a Vanity Fair photo shoot, but it’s real life.
Well, as real as one can be with the Wards.
The lawn’s trimmed and the flag is waving proudly, reminding every guest in attendance that the Wards are True Americans.
And Skye’s not panicking at all. Nope. Not her. Not nervous for any particular reason.
It’s just a totally normal, super fancy family (and like, 50 guests) barbecue. Father Ward himself is manning the grill, which is the most preposterous thing Skye’s ever seen. She nudges Grant’s arm with her head. “Your dad has no idea what he’s doing, does he?”
Grant smiles down at her. “He pretends to grill every year,” he says. “And we humor him, and then this really excellent barbecue place caters.”
“Thank God,” Skye says. “I was worried I’d have to try your Father’s cooking.”
“No one has ever been that unlucky,” Grant says. “Maybe Mother, a long time ago. But even then, I doubt it.”
“Aw,” Skye says. “But cooking for each other is rooommaaaantic.”
He rolls his eyes at her, which is the appropriate response. “Not sure if you’ve noticed,” Grant says. “But it’s pretty much pre-determined marriages in the Ward family.”
“Like Christian and Anna?” Skye asks. “No dating? Just politics?”
“God only knows who they would’ve paired me with,” Grant says. “Not that Christian and Anna don’t love each other but...” He stares at his father for a moment. “Look at my parents.”
“You mean they’re not looking for an eligible debutante to marry you off to?” Skye asks. Even though she’s certain he would’ve told her if that was the case. Right?
And besides. It probably wouldn’t matter, soon. But Grant doesn’t have to know that.
“Nah,” Grant says. His hand tugs lazily at her hair. “I’ve got someone.”
“Well,” Skye says. “I’m sure she’s a great girl.”
He pulls her in. Kisses the top of her head. “Total marriage material.”
Which is when she pulls away from him. “I need to talk to Christian,” Skye says. And Grant probably thinks it’s because he said ‘marriage material,’ and he’s only slightly right. “It’s not the marriage thing,” she says, waving her hands. “Okay? I love you and I’d totally be your wife. But I, um-” He hasn’t looked so crestfallen in ages. “Grant. “I need to talk to your brother really quick. Okay?”
He blinks. “Did I do something wrong?”
She shakes her head. Stands on tiptoe to kiss him. “I promise, it’s not about you.”
“Okay but-”
“Be right back, okay?” Skye says.
He’s frowning. But he nods. “Be quick?”
“Promise,” Skye says.
And then she’s walking across the lawn to Christian and Anna, as quickly as she can without looking suspicious.
Which obviously isn’t working, since Christian’s holding his martini in one hand while still staring at her like she’s got three heads.
“I need to talk to you,” Skye says. She barely even notices the small group of people Christian’s been chatting up, all of whom are very, very aware of her.
Christian spares his friends (friends?) an apologetic glance. “Skye, dear,” he says. “I’m talking to some very important-”
“Maynard Christian Ward the Fifth,” Skye says. “I am going to die if you don’t talk to me right now.”
Anna almost laughs, but manages to hide it behind her hand. She plays it off. Acts she was trying to fix her hair. “I’m sure we can function without you for a few minutes, dear.”
He sighs, and hands Anna his drink. “Come on, Skye.”
She grabs him by his sleeve and drags him to the house.
“Skye!” he protests. “You’re pulling my suit.”
“Shut up,” she says.
He doesn’t.
Skye’s quick to lock the bathroom door behind them. Ignores the look Christian’s giving her.
“Listen, Skye,” Christian starts, in his ‘senator voice.’ “I’m flattered, but I love my wife and you are beautiful, of course, and that dress you wore on Thanksgiving was lovely but I-”
“Are you done?” Skye asks. “Because I’m not trying to have sex with you.”
“Oh thank God,” Christian says. “Not that you’re... undesirable. But-”
“Honestly,” Skye says. “How have you ever won an election?”
“Legacy,” Christian says.
“Fair,” she replies.
“And if you’re not trying to, I don’t know-” He gestures. “Seduce me. Then why would you drag me into a bathroom and lock the door?”
Skye leans against the far wall. Almost takes out the towel rack. Quickly corrects herself, though at the expense of the towels. “Okay. Shit. Okay. I have an offer for you.”
Christian raises an eyebrow. “Do you need money?”
“No, idiot,” Skye says. “Way to assume the worst of me.”
“I’m just making logical conclusions!” he protests. “I do not think the worst of you. How dare you. I think you’re a lovely-”
“Stooooop,” Skye says. “Okay. Listen. Grant told me that you and Anna have been trying to have a baby for like, five years.”
Christian’s face falls. His shoulders tighten. He crosses his arms. “He told you that?”
“He didn’t-” She sighs. “It’s not a bad thing, Christian. It’s just something he told me.”
“I don’t think he should have,” Christian says. He’s so tall, she realizes. So tall and yet so easy to knock down.
“But if he didn’t,” Skye says. “Then I wouldn’t be able to come for you for help.”
“Skye,” Christian says. “What do you want?”
She takes a deep breath. “I’m pregnant. And I want you to help me pass the baby off as yours.”
Stunned, tense silence. “I’m sorry,” Christian says, raising his hands. Pointing to the ceiling. Maybe even to Jesus, like that will help. “You’re pregnant?”
“It’s an accident,” she says. “I’m on the pill and I must’ve fucked up, somehow. But I’ve got it all worked out, okay? We can make it look like Anna’s pregnant, and then I’ll just stay hidden for nine months and then when I have the baby, you can have it! Everyone wins.”
He blinks at her. And she hates, a lot actually, that the shock in his face is tempered with pity. “You want me to take your baby,” Christian says. “My brother’s child.”
“We’re not even ready for a baby,” Skye says. “We’re young and you want one, right? So why not? It’s perfect.”
“And what about my mother?” Christian asks. “Do you think you’d be able to hide something like this from her?”
“No, no,” Skye says. Insists. “No, see, you have to convince her that it’s a good idea. Because you’re her favorite, so she’ll listen to you.”
He almost smirks. “I’m not her favorite,” Christian says. “I’m just the eldest.”
Without thinking, Skye reaches for the sleeve of his jacket. “Christian,” she says. “Please. You have to help me.”
He studies her face for a moment. Slowly, slowly folds his hand over hers. “Skye,” he asks. “Do you want this baby?”
She swallows. “Grant will leave me,” she says. “He’ll think this was my plan all along and it wasn’t, I swear, but if he thinks it was he’ll hate me forever and I can’t do that Christian, I can’t-”
He holds up a hand to silence her. “Grant would never hate you,” Christian says.
“He will,” Skye says. “This will change his mind.”
“But it was an accident,” Christian says. “Correct?”
She nods.
“Is it really Grant you’re worried about?” Christian says. “Because it sounds to me like you don’t think very highly of yourself.”
She stares up at him. “I-”
“I had a lot of therapists, as a child,” Christian says. “I know the basics.”
“I don’t care about the money,” Skye says. “Or the family, or the title. But having a baby will make it look like-”
“Grant’s not the senator, Skye,” Christian says. “And for that, you’re very, very lucky.” He squeezes her hand. “As for what people think-” He shrugs. “Why should it matter to you now?”
“Because it will hurt Grant,” Skye says. “And I can’t do that.”
“What will hurt Grant is you keeping this a secret from him,” Christian says. “If you’re feeling something, if you have a secret, you just need to tell him. Hiding it will kill the relationship worse than your...” He swallows. “Pregnancy.”
“But what if he leaves me?” Skye says. “What if he kicks me out of the party?”
“He would never leave you,” Christian says. “Don’t you know how much he loves you?”
She blinks back tears. “Yes.”
“Then tell him,” Christian says. “And for the record, you’re wrinkling my suit.”
It pulls a laugh out of her, and she rewards Christian by socking him in the arm.
“Hey!” he says.
“You’re pretty smart,” Skye says. “Much smarter than I thought you were.”
“Likewise,” Christian says, smoothing his jacket. “Now, would you like me to go get my brother?”
She shakes her head. “I’ll go find him,” Skye says. “I don’t want to tell him in the bathroom, you know?
“I suppose,” Christian says. “If Anna were to tell me, I’d want her to do it by the pond in the back.”
“You’ll get what you want, Christian,” Skye says.
“Ah,” Christian says. “But that’s the thing. I’m the senator. And it’s never that simple.”
She’s not entirely sure how to respond. “Thank you,” she says. “For being so understanding.”
“It comes with practice,” he says. She’s not even sure if he’s joking.
“Walk me back outside?” she asks.
“I will as soon as you stop crying,” he says, offering her his embroidered handkerchief.
She dabs at her eyes. “Sorry for having an emotion at the barbecue,” she says.
“Really,” Christian says. “It’s unbecoming.”
“What if your mother breaks us up?” Skye says, quietly. “What if she finds him an Anna?”
Something changes in Christian’s posture. It becomes stiffer. More defensive. “It wasn’t like that,” Christian says. “I never... I wasn’t allowed to have a serious girlfriend before Anna. And I don’t know if she had anyone before me.”
Skye tilts her head. “You haven’t asked?”
He shrugs. “Maybe I don’t want to know.”
“Wow,” Skye says.
“See?” Christian replies. “You could be so much worse.”
“You’re not that bad,” Skye says. She gently stuffs the used handkerchief into his breastpocket. Pats it as he gives her a disgusted look. “You’re almost 50% synthetic human emotion.”
“You’re so sweet,” Christian says, removing the handkerchief from his pocket and dropping it into the laundry basket. He offers her his arm. “Shall we?”
She takes his arm. “We shall.”
Grant’s waiting for her by the grill. And she knows he’s waiting, because it’s not like he and his Father ever talk, and it’s not like Father Ward is actually cooking anything. So Skye smoothes her skirt and licks her teeth and tells herself that she can do this.
“Hey,” Skye says, easily falling back to his side. She laces her fingers through his. “Want to go for a walk?”
His face flashes with relief. “God, yes,” he says. Then remembers his Father, and sort of coughs. “I mean. If you’d like, sweetie.”
“This family is ridiculous,” Skye says. “They should put you on display.”
“Oh, it’s not really that interesting,” Father Ward says, flipping a burger that no one is going to eat. “You’d be surprised.”
Skye stares. Grant stares. And it’s mostly because Skye’s almost 100% sure Father Ward doesn’t even know her name. And he’s spoken maybe four sentences to her, total, in the entire time she’s known him.
So it’s a little weird.
“Um-” Skye says. “Okay?”
“We should go on our walk,” Grant says, tugging her away. Father Ward doesn’t even respond, doesn’t even act like he’d had anything to say. They both manage to back away from the grill without making eye contact with him.
It’s only when they’re out of earshot that Skye says, “That was really strange.”
“You’re telling me,” Grant says. “He barely talks to me, and that’s over the course of 27 years.”
“Wow,” Skye says.
“Yeah,” Grant replies. “No one said we were perfect.”
“I mean,” Skye says. “They kind of do. That’s what this barbecue is for, right? That image?”
He shrugs. “Good thing we know better, then.”
She swings their arms as they hold hands. “Christian told me there was a pond out back,” Skye says. “If you’d like to show me.”
Grant brushes his thumb over her knuckles. “It’s really beautiful,” he says. “I’m surprised you and Christian talked about it.” End of sentence. Beginning of awkward silence.
Skye only bites her lip for a moment. She remembers to speak. “I’ll tell you everything we talked about,” she says. “Just take me to the pond.”
Doubt. It’s not obvious, but it’s there for just a second. “Sure,” he says.
“It’s not bad,” Skye says, following Grant around the side of the house. Ignoring the cameras and the conversations and the things in her life, at this moment, that are not Grant Douglas Ward. “Christian told me it wasn’t bad.”
“That doesn’t actually make me feel better,” Grant says.
“Well,” Skye says. “That makes me feel worse.”
He stops mid-step. “Just tell me what it is,” he says. “Okay? I can take it. Did Mother try to scare you off? Is that it?”
She shakes her head. “Come on,” she says. “I can see the pond.”
“Skye,” he says. “You’re worrying me.”
She doesn’t respond. She just leads him to the old bench by the side of his family’s untouched pond. “Does anyone ever come back here?” she says.
“Just us,” Grant says. “It’s not really public space.”
It’s not as well-kept as the front lawns, but Skye finds it more charming. Dreamier. Christian was right. It’s a good place for good news.
If this is good news.
She sits down, and pats the seat beside her. “Come here,” she says.
He does. He sits right down next to her and wraps his arm around her shoulders. “Please talk to me,” he says. “Whatever it is, I’ll fix it.”
She notices tadpoles in the pond’s shallow edge. Just swimming along, doing their tadpole thing.
She sucks in a deep breath. “I love you,” she says.
He rubs her shoulder. “I love you, to-”
“I’m pregnant,” she says, to the tadpoles. Clears her throat. Tilts her head to meet Grant’s gaze. “I’m pregnant, Grant.”
He bursts into tears.
“Oh my God,” Skye says, reaching to cup his cheeks. “Oh my God, Grant, I’m sorry, we can fix it, I’m so-”
He grabs her hands and kisses the insides of her wrists. Softly, gently. But he’s nothing less than certain. “Oh my God, Skye,” he says, in a half-sob. “My Skye.”
She studies him, the way he’s holding her hand. The way he presses her palms to his cheeks and cries. “Your Skye?”
“You’re having a baby,” he says. Sniffles. “You’re having a beautiful little baby.”
“Grant,” she says, softly. “Grant, I don’t-”
He nods in understanding. Tries to pull himself together by quieting his crying. Drops her hands so he can wipe under his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says. “Sorry, you know I’m not that-” A cough. “Emotional, and at my parents’ house of all places but...” He shakes his head. “You’re pregnant, Skye.”
She feels like she should both stay on this bench and leave all at once. She opts instead for staring into his watery eyes, and trying not to cry herself. “You’re not mad?” she asks, and her voice is smaller than she thinks it should be.
He swallows the lump in his throat. “Why would I be mad?”
“Because this could ruin your...” She gestures. To the house, though what she means is the front lawn. The party. The family. “This is going to ruin your reputation.”
He’s never looked quite so offended. Which, given that his eyes are still red and his nose is so runny, is pretty cute. “That can go to hell,” Grant says. “I couldn’t care less if they put my face on the cover of the Post.”
Skye makes a face. “They just might. And that’s just what they’ll say about you.”
A tic in his jaw. “I won’t let anyone hurt you,” Grant says. “I will never, ever let anyone come near you.”
“The whole world’s going to think I’m a gold digger,” Skye says. “Because I got pregnant by accident. They’ll think I’m trapping you.”
He reaches for her. “Skye, if that bothers you-”
“And it’s not them,” Skye says. “It’s not that. It’s you. It’s this fear I have that somehow you’ll wake up one morning and decide to believe them.”
A duck chooses that exact moment to fly into the pond. Skye startles, and it’s kind of a mercy, since she doesn’t have to stare at Grant.
The glimpse she got of his face hurt her enough.
Stupid. Stupid, if he didn’t hate her, he would now, since she’s got zero faith in him, and-
“What if we dropped off the face off the Earth?” he asks. “What if I liquidated my trust, and you and I got a car, and we just got out of the spotlight? We could move far, far away and I won’t be Grant Ward anymore and no one will hurt you. It’ll just be me and you and the little one.”
“You would-” She feels herself choking up. “You can’t leave your family for me, Grant.”
“I’ll do whatever you want me to do,” Grant says. “Just say it, and I’ll do it.”
She rubs her thumbs under her eyes. “Just hold me, please. Just promise you’ll never leave.”
He lifts her onto his lap. Wraps her into his arms. His nose is in her hair. And she lets herself be enveloped by him, by his warmth and his love. “I will never leave you,” he says. “I love you.”
She nods. “Thank you, Grant.”
He kisses the top of her head. “Why did you tell Christian before me?”
“Promise you won’t get mad?”
“I promise.”
She adjusts herself on his lap. Swings her legs off the edge of the bench. “I told him he could have the baby. That we could pretend it was his and Anna’s, so that way no one would get in trouble.”
“Oh,” Grant says. “But-”
“I thought you might think,” Skye says. “I don’t know. That I was doing this to keep you around or hurt you or that I shouldn’t be having a baby because I barely know you and-”
“Do you really think so little of yourself?” Grant asks.
“Would you believe Christian asked me the same thing?” Skye says.
“Well you offered to give him a baby,” Grant says. “And like, not really in the surrogate way. You had a very elaborate scheme for it.”
“You have no idea,” Skye says.
“You don’t have to scheme your way out of this,” Grant says. “We don’t have to come up with some kind of ploy.”
“I thought it would help,” she says. “I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone.”
“Do you want to have a baby, Skye?” Grant says. “Have you stopped to ask yourself that?”
“I have,” she says.
“And?” Grant asks.
“I want to have this baby,” Skye says. “And I want to have a family with you.”
“Oh,” Grant says, softly. Full of love and wonder and awe. “Oh, Skye.”
She swallows the rest of her tears. She’s happy. She’s happy, and she has to just let herself be happy. Whatever happens, nothing will take away the look Grant’s giving her right now. Nothing will ever take that from her.
The light breeze rustles from the trees behind them. There’s a tall figure rounding into the back yard.
“Grant, Skye!” Christian calls. He’s come all the way to the back of the house to get them, which Skye supposes is an honor not many receive. He’s probably even risking his shoes on all of this long grass. Not that the grass is at abandoned house proportions. But still. “We’re going down to the docks to watch the fireworks. Are you coming?”
Skye wrinkles her nose. “It’s a little early for fireworks. The sun’s just setting!”
“It’s the traditional time,” Christian says. “Besides. Mother and Father don’t like to stay up late.”
Skye sighs in response. Nuzzles against Grant. “I’d rather stay here,” she tells him.
Grant nods. “We’re gonna skip it, Christian,” he says.
“Your loss,” Christian says. And then, Skye’s almost positive, he smiles at them. Fondly. Like he cares about them.
“Your whole family is weird,” Skye says.
“Christian’s by far the weirdest,” Grant assures her. “Because he’s in politics.” He hugs her close to his chest. “He didn’t ask you to name the baby Maynard Christian Ward the Sixth, did he?”
Skye laughs, deep in her stomach. “Oh God,” Skye says. “No, he didn’t.”
“Good,” Grant says. “Because we’re not naming our baby that.”
“Promise?” Skye asks.
He offers her his hand. “I promise.”
She links her pinky through his.
“And you know Skye,” Grant says. “If you wanted to get married, I’d be completely up for it.”
She pauses. “Did you just propose to me?”
“A little,” he says. “I’ll do it right, okay? Just wanted to lay the idea out there, first.”
“Well,” she says. “If and when you do propose, I’d be up to saying yes.”
“We may make an honest woman out of you yet,” Grant teases. He kisses the back of her neck.
The sensation makes her sigh. “Don’t count on it,” she says back. “I’m still a van baby at heart.”
“Good,” he says. “That’s good.”
“Grant,” she says. “What about when your Mother finds out?”
“We can cross that bridge later,” Grant says. “I promised I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you. And I mean it.”
And for the moment, she lets herself believe him.