sleepless nights | vale/marc | 388 words | baby fic!
if you're reading expecting better, this is set after the events of that fic and therefore contains spoilers, by which i mean the babies and their names, so heads up.
ao3 link
Marc wakes up, as is usual these days, to the sound of a baby crying. He groans, forcing himself off the bed. Vale jerks awake.
“Go back to sleep,” Marc says softly, brushing a hand over Vale’s head, “It’s my turn.”
Vale mumbles something unintelligible and drifts back off. The culprit, Marc finds in the nursery, is Victoria.
“Ay, ay, ay, mi vida,” Marc says, picking her up, “What’s the matter, hm?”
He takes her out of the room quickly, before she can set her sister off. He checks her diaper, but she doesn’t need changing. She isn’t hungry, either, which is good, because it’s not time to feed her yet anyways.
“Are you just lonely?” he says, bouncing her a little, “Do you just want to be held?”
She doesn’t stop crying, but she at least stops yelling, no longer a wail. Marc hums to her, a lullaby he half remembers his mother singing to him. He’ll have to ask her what the words are. Victoria tires herself out, sobs reducing to sniffles, and then stopping entirely.
“There we go,” Marc says, “All better, yes?”
He holds her in front of him. She makes eye contact, kicks her legs, smiles. Her smile, he’s starting to notice, is just like Alex’s, funny on a face so clearly Vale’s that it may as well have been cloned. It warms him, a little, that she has some Marquez in her too. He kisses the soft, blond wisp of her hair when he puts her down.
“Sleep tight, amor,” he whispers, conscious of Rosa in the crib next to her, “Let us rest a little, okay?”
Vale stirs again when he slips back into bed. “Which one?” he asks, muffled into the pillow.
“Yours,” Marc says, a teasing lilt in his voice.
“Mm.” Vale throws an arm around him. “Don’t worry, Rosa will take her turn soon enough.”
“And she’s louder,” Marc mumbles, eyes drooping.
“Both our lungs,” Vale says, “Combined, on that one.”
Marc falls asleep thinking how sweet that idea is, him and Vale twining together, making someone noisier, even more annoying. When Rosa does, as promised, wake him up a few hours later, he lets it soften his irritation. And when she scowls at him with her big brown eyes, all he sees in her expression is Vale.
expecting better | chapter two | vale/marc | 1.9k
warning: mentions of nausea/feeling sick and throwing up in this chapter. nothing is described in detail, just a heads up for anyone who might need it!
chapter one
Vale is going to be sick. This is exactly what he promised himself he would not do, the kind of stupid, impulsive thing he’s supposed to have grown out of. But it’s too late now: he’s already here, sitting in the airport, realising he should have maybe called ahead.
Well. Better late than never. His hands shake around his phone. Marc answers in two rings.
“Vale?” It’s a gut-punch. He sounds half-asleep. Because it’s four in the morning.
“I’m sorry to do this, but can you. Look, I’m at the airport.”
“In… Rimini?”
“No, um. In Madrid.”
“What?”
“Yes, um. My flight just landed. I mean, half an hour ago, but— can you come pick me up? Please.”
There are sounds of thudding; Marc getting out of bed, bumping into something. “Yes, yes, of course, I’ll be there as soon as I can. Are you— is the baby—”
“Fine,” Vale says, “Fine, healthy, nothing to worry about. I just had— I’ll explain, I promise, just— not over the phone.”
“Okay,” Marc says, soothing, “That’s okay. I’ll be there soon, okay? Just stay put.”
*
Vale puts his hand on Marc’s shoulder in the car, stopping him from putting the key in the ignition. He realises, belatedly, that they haven’t touched yet, that Marc didn’t hug him or even shake his hand or— anything. He swallows down the feeling.
“Don’t drive,” he says, “I should tell you now.”
Marc takes a shaky breath. Vale watches the rise and fall of his chest, transfixed. He had seemed so composed over the phone, always, but like this… he is just as scared as Vale. There is something precious about it. Something Vale craves.
“Okay, fine, spit it out,” Marc says, impatient.
Vale looks him in the eye, then, for the first time since he found out. Marc looks tired, eyes red and lined at the corners. He looks old, weary. It dawns on Vale that this is taking a toll on him too.
“It isn’t bad news,” he says, “At least, I don’t think so. Depends on how you feel about it.”
“Vale, please,” Marc snaps, “Just tell me before I strangle you.”
“Well, now,” Vale says, sing-song, slipping so easily back into this teasing skin, “Is that any way to treat the mother of your twins?”
Marc’s reaction is comical— his jaw drops, eyes going right to Vale’s stomach, as if he might be able to see physical proof. Vale can’t even blame him; he’s sure he looked even funnier at the clinic earlier that day. Or yesterday. Something like ten hours ago. Marc jerks forward, hand hovering over Vale’s stomach.
“This is… this is what you wanted to tell me?” Marc says, voice small.
Vale nods, smiling. For the first time since the nurse told him, he lets himself be happy about it. He’s shocked, for a second, to realise that he is happy. He wants this, and he wants it like he always wants: with everything in him straining for it, hurtling towards it at three hundred kilometers an hour. He wonders, fleetingly, if Marc wants this that badly too. If he’s hungry for it the way he’s hungry on the bike. Absolute, inevitable.
“I just had the ultrasound today,” Vale says, filling the silence. Then, hesitantly, “I have pictures, if you want to see. I mean, it isn’t much, but—”
“Please, yes,” Marc says, “I would love that, yes.”
Vale digs the folder out of his bag, letting out a sigh of relief when he sees that it hasn’t folded or torn. He hadn’t been very careful stuffing it in with a handful of clothes. Marc pulls the images out, tracing them with careful fingers. Vale watches, breath caught, as a grin spreads across his face, big and bright like it hasn’t been around Vale in years. Vale aches. He blames it on the fact that he hasn’t slept.
“Oh my god, Vale,” Marc says, hushed, “We’re having twins .”
Vale’s heart is threatening to beat right out of his chest. “Yes. Yeah. God, I will be huge.”
Marc giggles at that. All the air in Vale’s lungs leaves in a rush.
“Have you—” Marc clears his throat. “I mean, have you told anyone you’re here?”
Vale raises an eyebrow. “No, I have not. How was I supposed to explain it?”
“Sorry,” Marc says, smile fading, “I just thought you would.”
“You haven’t told Alex,” Vale accuses, “About any of this.”
Marc stares at him. “How do you know that?” And then, louder, “Did you ask him?”
“No, of course not, what? I don’t even talk to him!”
Marc takes offense to that, to something in his tone, leaning back. “What, is there something wrong with talking to him?”
“No, I didn’t mean—” Vale groans, frustrated. “I know that Alex does not know because Franky does not know. About the babies, yes, sure, you want to wait a little, but not even that we were—” Seeing each other— “Sleeping together.” He admits, then, to himself, that maybe that stung a little. Marc’s face closes off, like stone. He puts the ultrasounds back carefully into their folder and buckles his seatbelt. Vale scrambles to put on his own. He doesn’t know what he’s done wrong.
“Should I have told him?” Marc asks as he pulls the car out of the parking lot. His voice is level, conversational. As if it isn’t a bomb.
“You tell him everything,” Vale says, “I just thought you might have.”
“Not everything,” Marc says. Vale waits for him to explain, but he doesn’t.
“I thought it was,” Vale starts, not knowing what he’s trying to say, “I mean. It was different than the other times. So, I thought… never mind. I don’t know what I thought. Forget about it.”
Marc sighs, as if Vale is a child who has disappointed him. Vale squirms in his seat. They drive the rest of the way in silence.
*
Vale hasn’t been to Marc’s house in Madrid before. The distance they’ve kept has been carefully calculated: to avoid suspicion, to avoid landmines. Vale has not taken Marc to Tavullia and Marc has not invited him here. Even now, Vale supposes, he has just invited himself, leaving Marc without a choice. Marc clicks his seatbelt off and slides out of the car. By the time Vale gets out Marc has already carried the bags up to the door and is working the key into the lock.
“It’s a nice place,” Vale says, filling the silence.
Marc laughs darkly. “You haven’t even seen it yet. You’re lucky, by the way, that Alex isn’t here.”
Vale blinks. He thought Alex and Franky had their own place. But, of course, it shouldn’t surprise him that Alex would end up back here some nights. He bites at his lip. It will be hard to avoid the younger Marquez. He really should have thought this through. Inside, Marc leads him to a guest bedroom on the first floor, neatly bare and uninviting.
“Bathroom is there,” he says, pointing, “There should be towels. Tell me if you need anything.”
He turns to leave. There’s something frustrating about it. Vale almost calls out to him, but he doesn’t know what he would even say. He could get Marc in bed, ask to fuck him, but that’s not what he wants. He’s tired. He sits on the bed and stares at the wall for a while, listening to the sounds of Marc moving around in his house. When it’s finally quiet, he turns out the light. The exhaustion must catch up to him— he falls asleep easily for the first time in weeks.
*
Marc’s face is grim the next morning over his breakfast of assorted fruits. He clearly hasn’t slept. He’s frowning at something on his phone. He looks up when Vale sits across from him, just a flash, and then he’s back to squinting at the phone like it’s offended him.
“I did some reading,” he says.
Vale wants to ask why he didn’t sleep, whether he couldn’t. Why he didn’t come to Vale if he couldn’t. Instead, he asks, “What about?”
Marc gives him a flat look. “About pregnancy,” he says, “Did you know that twins make it higher risk?”
Vale grimaces. “Yes,” he says, “The doctor mentioned.”
Marc charges on as if Vale hadn’t said anything. “Are they identical or fraternal? Either way, you should be taking iron supplements.”
Vale’s head hurts. He’s nauseous again. He wants an espresso. “Fraternal,” he says, gritting his teeth.
Marc looks at him properly this time. “Are you feeling sick? I can make you some toast.”
Vale shakes his head. “Do you have a coffee machine?”
Marc goes still. “You should avoid caffeine,” he says, “Or at least limit it.”
Now Vale is starting to get irritated. “One espresso won’t hurt.”
“I don’t have coffee in the house,” Marc says. He’s lying. He has to be. Who the fuck doesn’t have coffee in their house? Vale stares at him incredulously. Marc’s face stays blank. Vale huffs. Fine, whatever. He’ll just have to go out and find a cafe.
“Where do you keep the car keys?” he asks, standing up.
Marc looks startled. “What? Where are you going?”
“To get an espresso,” Vale says sweetly.
“You can’t,” Marc says, “Someone will recognise you.”
“Are you seriously,” Vale starts, feeling hysterical, “Trying to trap me in your house?”
“What? No,” Marc says, “I’m just saying, if someone sees you—”
“What is wrong with you?” Vale cuts in.
Instantly, he knows it’s the wrong thing to say. Marc’s face slams shut.
“You’re the one who flew here without telling anyone,” he says flatly, “You’re the one who called me. You’re the one who came to me. You’re the one who told me about the pregnancy, you’re the one who decided you keep it, you are the one who is in my house right now. If you don’t want to be here, fine. But if you leave, don’t call me again. I hang the keys by the door.”
His eyes are flinty, the only telltale sign of his anger. He goes to the kitchen, busying himself with the dishes. It’s a clear dismissal. Vale’s head spins where he stands. He can’t tell if it’s the nausea or Marc’s words. Marc is right— what the fuck is Vale doing here? They’re not a couple. They can’t be. Marc doesn’t want to be, he’s made that much clear. Vale shouldn’t be doing this. He should have terminated without even telling Marc. He’s never had a problem with it before. He doesn’t know what had possessed him to call Marc when he found out, confessing over the phone in fits and starts on the bathroom floor. He doesn’t know what possessed him to get on a plane. He marches towards the guest bedroom, determined to leave. Why did he think they would be able to raise children together when they can’t even hold a civil conversation? Yes, things had been better recently, but maybe— clearly, it was a fluke, if they’re back to fighting already. They are always going to crash and burn. Vale should have learned by now.
He makes it as far as three steps into the room before he stops. The folder with the ultrasounds is sitting on his bedside table. It was not there the night before. Vale must have forgotten about it in the car. Marc must have taken care of it, must have snuck into the room while Vale was asleep and put it there. Vale feels his eyes burn. He blinks back tears, embarrassed. This is nothing to cry over. Pull it together , he thinks to himself, What the fuck is wrong with you?
He is hit, promptly, with another wave of nausea, and has to go throw up.
Vale knows, of course, that Franky has been thinking of proposing. It’s been three years since he and Alex Marquez got together— at least, it’s been three years since Franky told him. He’s picked up, over time, that there was something going on for years before then, unofficial and a little fraught. He tries not to think about it. But the point is, he has had time to adjust to the idea. It’s fine. Good, even. Franky is happy, healthy. They’re good at keeping their on-track and off-track lives separate. It’s good. It’s not a surprise when Franky hands him a box and asks what he thinks of the ring inside. It will be a nightmare to plan, but that’s not Vale’s problem. He thinks about Marc and wedding planning, Marc helping his brother pick out a suit, picking out flowers and venues and a cake, maybe. He stops thinking.
Vale pastes on his biggest smile and pulls Franky into a hug. “Congratulations!” he says, “You certainly took your time!”
Franky smiles, a little shy. “Well, you know. We wanted to be sure.”
“And you are sure now?” Vale asks, unable to help himself.
Franky doesn’t hesitate before nodding. It’s good. It’s a good sign.
“That’s good,” Vale says, “I’m happy for you. And, you know, don’t worry about me. I will be on my best behaviour.”
“I know,” Franky says, giving him an odd look, “Is everything okay with you?”
Vale realises he’s being a little weird about this. Franky looks a little hesitant. Vale realises in a rush that Franky doesn’t know about— he doesn’t know. Which could mean two things: that Alex hasn’t told Franky, or that Marc hasn’t told Alex. He can’t decide which one is less believable.
“I thought things were… good? Or, I mean, better? Between you and Marc, lately.”
“They are!” Vale says, maybe too quickly. “We’re, uh. It’s fine. That’s why I said. No trouble from me.”
“…Okay,” Franky says, “Thanks. We appreciate it.”
Vale takes the out, turning to the kitchen quickly. “Great! Now, what do you want for lunch?”
/
He turns it over in his head at night. Stares up at the ceiling in bed until it’s clear sleep won’t come, then gets up and sits on the bike. Runs his hand over the cold metal. Thinks: Marc didn’t tell Alex. Or Alex didn’t tell Franky. He lines up the dates, counting. Alex knows the proposal is coming, just not when exactly. He and Franky talked about it, a little. That’s the kind of couple they are: big on communication, small on surprises. Vale doesn’t know if Marc knows about the proposal. Maybe Alex has told him, maybe not. Maybe he doesn’t want to rock the boat. Vale knows that he and Marc are a factor in the proposal; a few months ago Franky had said, not subtly, that he was glad that Vale and Marc were civil. Not that they were good, or talking, or friendly. Just that they weren’t fighting. Just that Vale shook Marc’s hand, now, said ciao if they were at the same events and happened to walk by each other. That was all Franky was grateful for, and, apparently, all the go-ahead that he and Alex needed. So, well. If Marc knows the proposal is coming, maybe he kept it to himself, the few months where they were… something. For Alex’s sake. There are a lot of things Marc would do for his brother’s happiness. A lot of things he has done. And then, well. He thought Marc would tell Alex about it, but it’s only been a few days. Vale doesn’t know how to feel about that. Maybe he wants Vale’s blessing first. Maybe he doesn’t want anyone to know, ashamed. Maybe he, like Vale, doesn’t quite believe it yet. Maybe—
Vale tries not to think of any other possibility. Tries not to think about why he hasn’t told anyone either. Except Marc. A secret between the two of them.
/
He calls Uccio the next morning, too early, promising himself that he will tell him. He will, this time, just spit it out. It’s getting real now. It’s been, god. He doesn’t want to do the math. Five weeks? Six? He has time, still, to make a decision, but— he said that when he found out too. Time is slipping away without him noticing. Which is why he needs to tell Uccio. Uccio will arrange things for him. Uccio can handle everything Vale can’t think about, and he’ll keep it quiet too. He won’t ask if Vale tells him not to. He will know. But he won’t push.
“ Ciao, Vale ,” Uccio says over the phone, “ It’s early. Couldn’t sleep again? ”
“Ah, you know,” Vale says, “It comes and goes.”
“ I don’t know. You’ve had a lot of trouble with it lately. Want me to book an appointment? ”
Vale stares down at his espresso. “No,” he says, “It’s fine. How are you?”
The conversation winds out, around Uccio’s life, VR46, Vale’s obligations for the week. There are openings, gaps where Vale could say it. Could spit it out. He doesn’t. Something tight in his chest holds it back, petulantly. This is something of his. This isn’t meant for Uccio to hear, to handle for him, even though Uccio has heard and handled everything about Vale for half their lives. It doesn’t make any sense. It’s frustrating. Very little makes sense these days. Before he hangs up, Uccio tells him again to see someone if the sleep issues continue. Vale agrees vacantly, guilt eating at him; he does have a doctor’s appointment, two days from now. It’s just that Uccio doesn’t know. Strange, because Uccio usually knows more about his health than Vale himself. But he doesn’t want to see Uccio’s face if he says it. Admits it. Uccio will know, and Vale doesn’t want him to. He keeps coming back to it. All this knowing and not knowing. It’s not meant for Uccio, but it is, apparently, meant for Marc.
/
Luca shows up the next day unannounced. Vale suspects immediately that it is part of some kind of intervention. He hasn’t been leaving the house much, but he didn’t think anyone had noticed, except Uccio, who wouldn’t go to Luca about it. They go out for lunch at a restaurant nearby that Luca likes. Vale drives them there and Luca drives them back. Luca pops the question in the car, a coordinated trap.
“So,” he says, casually, “How have you been?”
Vale shrugs. “You know. Fine. How are you?”
Luca cuts him a look sideways, disbelieving. “You have been acting strange. Is it about Franky?”
Vale blinks in surprise. “No? Why, is Franky okay?”
“Yes,” Luca says, “It’s just that I can’t think of anything other than the proposal that would bother you. Unless you and Marc have…” He trails off.
Vale folds his arms across his chest, irritated. They’re only five minutes away from home now. Vale is confident he can stall. “Unless me and Marc have what?”
“Have you been… talking?” It’s funny how euphemistic he makes it sound.
“No,” Vale lies.
Luca works his jaw. “Okay,” he says, “It’s fine if you don’t want to tell me. But it’s good to talk to someone. It doesn't have to be any of us, or—”
“I’m still going to therapy,” Vale says, “You don’t have to talk around it.”
Luca nods. “That’s good. Okay. Well.”
He pauses to take the next right turn. Only a minute or so now. Luca slows the car down to a crawl.
“Look,” he says, “You would tell me if it was something serious, right? I mean, with your health.”
Vale takes a deep breath. “I’m not sick, Luca. You don’t have to worry about me.”
They pull into the parking lot. Luca gets out of the car without saying anything back.
/
Because his luck is terrible, his phone rings as soon as they step into the house. When he takes it out of his pocket and sees his screen, he thanks God he doesn’t have the number saved. Luca is peering over his shoulder at it. He waves the phone in the air, says, “Ah, I have to take this.” He hopes Luca didn’t catch the country code. He goes out to the balcony, slides the door shut and hunches over the railing. He can’t risk Luca overhearing this.
“Ciao ,” Marc says, “ Your appointment is tomorrow, yes? ”
Vale sighs. “Yes. Why do you ask?”
“I was wondering who you’re taking with you. It’s fine if you don’t want to tell me, just, you know. Wondering. ” Translation: He wants to know if it’s Uccio. If Uccio knows.
Vale takes a deep breath. In, out. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean? Are you— I mean, you said you are not terminating, so— ”
“I’m not,” Vale says, cutting him off, deciding to bite the bullet, “That’s not— it’s just— no one knows, right now. Except you.”
There is silence over the line for a minute. “ You haven’t told anyone? Not even Salucci? ”
Vale flinches. “I was going to.”
“Will you— I mean, are you okay on your own? ”
That stings: the implication that Vale doesn’t know how to take care of their— of his— of the situation.
“Of course,” Vale hisses, “I’m fine on my own. I just don’t know how to tell people. That’s all.”
“…Okay. If you say so. Look, I told you, if you need anything—”
“Call you, yes, I know. Is that all?”
Marc goes silent again. Vale looks out over his balcony, listening to his quiet breathing. Something twists in his stomach.
“Okay, Valentino. Take care. ” He hangs up before Vale can say goodbye. Vale’s mouth is sour. His name on Marc’s mouth rings in his head. The last time they talked, he was still Vale. He doesn’t know why he even cares.
“Who was that?” Luca asks from the couch when Vale steps back inside.
expecting better | chapter three | vale/marc | 1.7k
chapter 1 / chapter 2 / ao3 link
this one is a marc pov chapter! yay!
Marc is on the floor in the middle of stretches when Vale shuffles into the home gym. He fights down a sigh of relief; Vale doesn’t need any more reasons to believe that Marc is trying to trap him here. When he’d left the kitchen to find Vale gone, he’d thought for a second, gripped with fear, that Vale had really— but he hadn’t. He was still in the house, just busy throwing up. Marc had set out toast for him. He’d hidden the coffee maker, too, and then guiltily made Vale a cup of tea, sweetened with honey.
He eases out of the stretch, ignoring the pain in his arm. “Are you alright?” he asks, trying to stay on stable ground, “I heard you earlier, in the bathroom.”
Vale grimaces. “Fine,” he says, “I’m used to it by now.” And then, after a strange, flickering expression, “Thank you for the toast. It helped.”
Marc blinks. “It’s no problem.”
“About earlier,” Vale starts.
“I’m sorry,” Marc interrupts, “I was— being pushy.”
Vale gives him a long look, working his jaw. Marc holds his gaze.
“I don’t want to leave,” Vale finally says. Marc’s body floods with relief, throat loosening.
“I am just,” Vale continues, “I think… overwhelmed. I don’t know what I’m doing, Marc. I just need—”
He chokes up. Marc is on his feet before he can process it, reaching out. He stops just short of pulling Vale into a hug, faltering, hand awkwardly on Vale’s shoulder. Vale makes the decision for them, pushing forward and pulling Marc into a hug. Tentatively, Marc rubs his hands up Vale’s back, like he would to soothe Alex, or his mother. Vale sinks into it, head coming down to rest on Marc’s shoulder. Marc leans, just a fraction, into his hair, relishing the softness, and then immediately feeling guilty for stealing the feeling of it when Vale is clearly upset.
“Sorry,” Vale gasps, “I should have called ahead, I should— I should know what I am doing.”
“It’s okay,” Marc says reflexively, “We can figure it out, yes?”
Vale takes a deep breath and then nods, but doesn’t let go or step back. Hesitantly, Marc pulls him a little closer by the shoulder blades, tucks his head into the junction of Vale’s neck. He feels Vale open his mouth, feels his breath on Marc’s skin even through his hoodie, tries to anticipate what he’s going to say, and then—
His phone rings, cutting through the air. They both jolt back. Marc fishes it out of his pocket, already knowing it’s Alex by the ringtone.
“It’s Alex,” he says, for Vale’s benefit, “I should—”
“Yes, of course,” Vale says, “You can— Marc.”
Marc looks at him, hand hovering over the screen.
“You can— I don’t mind if he knows. That I am here. If you want, I mean. Just not about— you know.” Vale says it looking down, at the floor, shoulders hunched.
“Okay,” Marc says slowly, “Thank you, that’s— I think I will.”
Vale nods and then ducks out of the room. Franky will be here, Marc thinks, in a few days. That should help. If Vale is still here. But he wants Marc to tell Alex, so he’s not going to bolt, surely. Probably.
“What took you so long?” Alex says when he finally picks up.
“Sorry,” Marc says, “In the gym.”
“Oh, okay,” Alex says, “I’m coming over for lunch with the dogs, can you see if my shirt is there? The yellow one I lost, you know it.”
“Um, yeah,” Marc says, “I’ll check. Look, can I— can I get back to you on lunch?”
“...Are you busy or something? There’s nothing on the calendar.”
“Not busy, exactly, I just have to… check with someone.”
“You have someone over?” Alex says it too incredulously. Marc is a little hurt. “How come you haven’t told me? Wait, have you told Mama?”
“No,” he says, “Look, Alex. Don’t be mad, okay?”
A pause. “Marc. Please tell me it’s not who I think it is.”
Marc bites his lip. “That depends on who you think it is.”
“Marc!”
Marc flinches, just a little. Sometimes Alex sounds eerily like their mother. “It’s Vale,” he says, ripping the bandaid off, “And, look, I know what you’re thinking, but it’s complicated—”
“How long?” Alex demands, “How long have you been hiding this from me?”
“I wasn’t hiding , don’t be dramatic—”
“I’m definitely coming over, I don’t care if he doesn’t want to see me.”
“Alex, come on—”
“I’ll see you in a few hours, Marc.”
He hangs up. End of discussion.
*
“So,” Marc says, a little nervous, “Alex will be here for lunch.”
Vale raises an eyebrow from the sofa, which he is lounging on. He has, apparently, decided to treat Marc’s house like his own.
“I’m surprised he wasn’t at breakfast,” he says, “Did you have a fight or something?”
Marc rolls his eyes. Clearly he had no reason to worry that Vale would be annoyed.
“I think he’s angry,” he says, moving Vale’s legs up so he can sit. Vale lets out a little noise of protest, then dumps his feet in Marc’s lap.
“At you or me?” Vale says lightly.
Marc shrugs. “Both, probably. It’s my fault. I should have told him.”
“Well,” Vale says, poking Marc’s chest with his foot, “What is it that they say? Better late than never?”
Marc snorts despite himself. Curling his hand around Vale’s ankle, he asks, “What’s the story for why you’re here?”
It’s Vale’s turn to shrug. “Sightseeing?”
“Be serious,” Marc says, shaking his ankle.
“Hey,” Vale says, “Be gentle with me. I’m pregnant.”
Marc laughs, a warm feeling curling around his chest. Vale joking about it makes it feel more serious, paradoxically. Like Vale understands it’s real, not just something he’s ignoring.
“We don’t have to say anything,” Vale says.
Marc levels him with a look.
“What?” Vale says, “Just say the truth, or part of it. This has been happening for a little while, I wanted to see you, you invited me.”
“He will have a hard time believing I invited you,” Marc says.
Something flashes in Vale’s eyes. Hurt, almost. Marc’s throat goes dry. I wanted to. I want you here, he wants to say, but he can’t.
He says, instead, “I will just say it’s payback for how he hid Franky from me all those years.”
It works. Vale laughs, bright like always. Marc’s mouth curls into a smile. It’s good, how he can still make Vale laugh. It’s something.
*
“Hi, Vale,” Alex says tightly.
“Alex,” Vale returns with a lazy smile.
Marc grimaces. Things between Alex and Vale have always been… polite, but tense. They’re perfectly cordial when they’re around each other, but they never spend more time talking than they absolutely have to. Marc isn’t sure, actually, why Vale has been so accepting of Alex and Franky’s relationship. Franky told Vale himself, alone. Marc remembers because Alex spent that weekend with him, strung out and nervy, while Marc tried to keep the sharp edge of his guilt buried. The dogs, thankfully, cut through the tension, crowding Marc excitedly until he picks them up.
“Yes, okay, hello,” he says, laughing as they both lick his face, “I missed you too.”
When he looks up, Vale is looking at him strangely, face pinched. Marc is confused for a moment, and then it hits him. He’s holding the dogs like he always does, cradled into his arms, but— it’s something Alex teases him for, too, how he always holds them like they’re babies. Quickly, he lets them down. Alex is frowning between him and Vale now. Marc clears his throat.
“Do you want, uh— lunch is ready.”
It isn’t smooth at all, but Alex, a saint as always, lets it slide, not speaking up again until they’re all seated and the dogs happily busy with their own food.
“So, Vale,” Alex says, “How long have you been here?”
“Ah,” says Vale, “I just arrived last night.”
“And what brings you here? Work trip? Vacation?” There’s a sharp edge to Alex’s tone. Marc grips his fork a little tighter.
Vale glances over at Marc before answering, as if to ask permission. “Marc invited me,” he says sunnily.
Alex raises his eyebrows at Marc, disbelieving. Marc shrugs.
“It’s been a while,” he says, “I was trying to tell you on the phone.”
“…Okay,” Alex says, “Sure. And what is this, exactly, that you have been doing for a while?”
It’s Marc’s turn to glance at Vale now. It doesn’t give him any insight, Vale’s face closed off.
“We’ve, um. Been seeing each other,” Marc says, going out on a limb. Vale’s gaze snaps to his, quietly surprised.
Alex speaks again before Marc can fixate on it. “It would have been nice to let me know,” he says.
“Well, you know,” says Marc, “I have my secrets.”
Alex doesn’t dignify that with a response.
*
Before he leaves, Alex pulls Marc aside. Vale is in the other room, playing with the dogs.
“Oh, right, the shirt you wanted,” Marc says, trying to stall, “I found it, I can go get it now—”
“What is really going on here?” Alex demands.
Marc grimaces. “Look,” he says, “It’s complicated, but I can’t tell you right now. Give us a little time, okay?”
“Us?” Alex echoes, almost mocking, “Marc, I didn’t even know you two were talking until today!”
“I know,” Marc says, desperate, “I’m sorry, that was— it was wrong. But I know what I’m doing.”
It’s a lie, a bald-faced one at that. Alex doesn’t buy it. Marc can see the exact moment he decides to let it go, for now.
“Okay, fine,” he says, “But I will be checking in everyday, and I will be bringing Franky over when he gets here.”
“Sure, yes,” Marc says, relieved, “I think that would be good, actually.”
Alex shakes his head, weary. “Just take care of yourself, Marc, please.”
“I will,” Marc says, pulling him into a hug, “I promise.”
“And call if you need anything, seriously.”
Marc nods, feeling himself choking up. He’s never kept something this big from Alex before, he realises. A part of him wants to just say it now, just to see Alex’s face, congratulations, you’re going to be an uncle — but Vale. The thought that Vale might not be sure despite whatever he says won’t stop lingering. And then, heavier, the guilt of betraying Vale’s trust. In the end, he just holds onto Alex a fraction longer than normal, and then lets him go.
the local abortion clinic giving uccio one of those cards that you hole punch and after 4 abortions the 5th one is free when vale eventually does tell him about the pregnancy he's going to be so annoyed because they could've finally used the card for a free abortion uccio's been carrying it around in his wallet for years
LOSING IT. anon i’m in love with you. this is so funny. marry me. i’m assuming this is about expecting better. GOD. POOR UCCIO. his free deal… valentino how could you do this to him…
for expecting better, not sure if it conflicts or spoils what you have outlined for future chapters but would love to know what Marc’s internal dialogue / reaction to Vale’s initial call to tell him he’s pregnant and planning to keep it was?
this is a great question and unfortunately the answer is i'm not sure, at least i'm not sure how exactly i would write that. it's definitely food for thought and i will be turning it over and it will probably come up in future chapters, but it's one of those things that i feel like will appear to me in bits and pieces as i write. what i can say right now: he thought for a second that he was hallucinating, and then that it was some kind of prank, and then he had to go lie face down on the floor. vale, to be clear, was not in a very composed state. it was an impulse call. he was freaking out.
