Hey, @loudestdork, guess what? Here I am again, this time at 4 am, because your fucking glorious manip has me obsessing over this brilliant little universe where Regina and Ruby are Hades and Persephone. I don’t know whether I should love you or hate you for fueling this hopeless addiction.
While I decide about that, you can read the latest installment. I can’t promise any more but holy shit there are so many ideas to play with. Hope you enjoy it you absolutely magnificent enabler!
Also, please forgive the song insert at the end. It has long been an earworm and this was the perfect ficlet, IMHO anyway, to use it in. The song is “Listen To The Wind” by James Horner (one of my most favorite film composers and I was utterly devastated when he passed) for the Terrence Malick film The New World. The whole score is incredible, but this one in addition to “An Apparition in the Fields...” are the standouts for me. I’ll post the URL to the referenced song after the ficlet. Give it a listen if you are a James Horner fan or a connoisseur of film scores in general.
“Would you please stop? Your needless fretting is tying my stomach into knots.”
Clutching the sheets to her bare chest, Ruby observes her spouse’s restless pacing as anxiety crawls up her spine. She hates this time of year – a twist of fate she could never have predicted when she was a maiden free to roam the Earth at her leisure.
Before she was married there were no seasons. The land was healthy and green year around. Birds and butterflies and wolves, her very favorite animal, flocked to her side, forgetting their natural impulses in the presence of Ceres Eugenia’s progeny. Ruby always had an affinity for animals and had always felt as if she were a part of their various cycles. When younglings were born she rejoiced in song and danced in celebration, and when they perished she mourned as if having lost a member of her family.
Common sense should therefore dictate that she prefer spring over autumn if only to spare herself the grief of watching the whole world die year after year in endless repetition. And yet nothing could be further from the truth. Already a thousand years have passed since she struck the eternal bargain with Jovia Zelena to bind her to Dīs. A thousand years she has observed the flora and fauna endure the frigid snows and gales of winter. A thousand years she has buried her four-legged friends in the frosty loam and held vigil over millions upon millions of trees and flowers and insects alike as they struggled, often fruitlessly, against the remorseless cold intent upon feeding the insatiable engine of death. She has cried enough tears in that millennium to replenish both the Mediterranean and Aegean were they to succumb to a terminal drought and still she would rather endure another rather than spend the coming six months away from her beloved.
Speaking of Regina, as she stops abruptly and swirls around, Ruby can’t help but notice that her sheen toga clings wonderfully to her curves and that the part in the garment has separated to reveal nearly the whole length of a shapely leg her lips long to taste. Eyes blazing, hands on her hips, raven hair spilling over her shoulders, Regina cuts such an impressive and irresistibly handsome figure that Ruby can hardly keep herself from drooling. And how very embarrassing that would be!
Not for the first time, she silently contemplates how anyone with functioning vision and a shred of reason could choose Venus as the fairest of them all. Lips red as the rose, hair black as ebony, and skin white as snow; surely Ruby’s closest childhood friend possessed all of those physical virtues and more, yet even Venus Mater Caelesti – known to those who lover her as Nix Alba (or in the common tongue Snow White) – failed to compare with the banished goddess that all with breath either feared or loathed.
In the vaulted halls of Olympos they derisively referred to the ruler of the Underworld as Regina a Malo, the Evil Queen. But to Ruby she will forever be Regina in Corde Meo, the Queen of My Heart.
Survival for half the year without the sovereign owner of her love and devotion is a torture so unbearable that the Deam Optimus Maximus is no doubt thrilled that her faux attempt at leniency was failing so spectacularly. Were it not for the unyielding support of her mother and Snow, she cannot imagine how she would even function.
True Love, as it turns out, is not only a source of unimaginable happiness but also of indescribable misery.
“Needless fretting?” Regina says, responding to Ruby’s request in a less than accommodating tone. “In less than a fortnight you will leave me once again to the mercy of my imaginations. I can do nothing else but fret when you are not by my side! Beyond the borders of Dīs I cannot protect you, cannot watch over you, cannot...”
“Hover like a mother hen over her chicks?” Ruby supplies, interrupting in an attempt to forestall her wife’s spiraling descent lest she succumb to one of her abyssal depressions.
There is scarcely anything to be done when the darkness has taken hold of Regina in earnest. In such instances, Ruby does what she can to provide whatever comfort her ailing partner will accept. Usually space and time are required for Regina to wrestle off the impossibly heavy blanket of sadness that has engulfed her. But sometimes she lets Ruby sing to her until the fog lifts or hold her hand while they go for a walk through the Fields of Gladness or the Blessed Groves. When the despair becomes too much, Regina will curl into Ruby’s body while they lie abed and it is all she can do during those evenings to keep from empathetically sobbing as her beloved trembles miserably in her arms.
Thankfully Ruby has discovered through trial and error that humor is a method of dispelling Regina’s souring moods that is effective more often than not.
“I resent that comparison,” Regina says, brows furrowed in objection. Ruby breathes a sigh of relief, though, when her shoulders relax into a more neutral posture. “For your information I am nothing like your disgustingly virtuous mother, and I’ll thank you not to imply such again any time in the near future.”
“Aww. Don’t be cross, love. I meant no disrespect,” Ruby says, then invitingly pats the empty space beside her. “Now, be a good girl and come back to bed.”
One sable eyebrow quirks up as Regina eyes Ruby with a small grain of incredulity. “’A good girl’? Do you address Zelena with such remarkable insouciance when you deliver your annual report?”
Said report is part of the deal with the chief goddess Ruby acquiesced to so that she could have six months of the year with Regina instead of the originally intended three. Her first destination each spring is Mytikas, the summit of Mount Olympus upon which the great temple of the gods was erected eons before she was even born. There she is to give account of Regina’s activities, however benign, as assurance that Zelena’s grasp on power remains uncontested. It is a distasteful duty that Ruby executes with all of the precision she can muster, especially since it always makes her feel dirty, as if she is being employed against her will as a spy in her own wife’s domain.
“Of course not, silly,” she replies, smiling at how cute Regina is when acting absolutely ridiculous. “I try to keep interactions with your sister to a minimum, and when I report to her I make sure to maintain the proper formality she most certainly does not deserve. Now stop beating around the bush and come to bed. As you said, I have a fortnight left with you and I do not intend on wasting even one minute.”
When Regina remains mulishly still, Ruby switches to a tried and tactic: batting her eyelashes and pouting shamelessly. To her delight, Regina caves within seconds and responds with an affectionate if not exasperated roll of her eyes.
Once they are settled back in together, Ruby’s back nestled flush with Regina’s front, they both heave sighs of contented pleasure. An easy, familiar silence reigns over them for a space that Ruby does not care to account for. Not when the only thing she needs and desires is right here in this room holding her just right, nuzzling into her cheek and neck in between pressing patient kisses against the skin of her shoulder and arm.
This is her home, Regina is her home, and there is no other place where she feels more safe and loved and cherished in all the universe, which has garnered a fair few questions as to her sanity when she has admitted as such to her friends and loved ones in the planes above Dīs. Some of them have been so bold as to declare to her face that she is insane.
“If that’s true,” she told one such acquaintance, “then sanity is not for me. Better to be deranged and blissfully happy than a sensible busybody like you who will never experience real love or understand how it feels to be desired for your heart instead of your tits!”
That particular individual has not spoken to Ruby since, not that it is a big loss. Drizella always was and always will be a vacuous hussy.
“What am I to do when you’re gone?”
Regina’s plaintive whisper shatters the silence as if she had screamed. Ruby’s heart lurches from a pang of acute melancholy. She already knows the answer to that question, and has since it was first asked a thousand years earlier.
While Ruby cries herself to sleep upon her plush bed in the Aventine Temple, Regina will be working herself ragged by micromanaging every last operational detail of the entire realm. She will spend countless hours draped in thick furs brooding upon her throne while being buffeted by cutting winds that sweep through corridors and hallways of the palace – for while above the spring breeds balmy, gentle breezes, in the Underworld the atmosphere turns ever more frigid and capricious and violent in tune with the temperament of its ruler. Against all logic she will refuse nourishment far too frequently and eat meager portions only when necessary, forego rest until she is too haggard and weary to perform even basic functions, harshly dismiss all attempts to lighten her load until the majority of the staff is too frightened to even approach her, and generally wear herself down until all that is left is an exhausted husk that Ruby will have to revitalize all over again come the fall.
She hates that her beloved will segregate herself to such a degree, but there is little she can do to prevent it. The Laws of Olympus cannot be broken, not even by those who decree them. However, that does not mean they cannot be bent. She may be forbidden to physically see and touch Regina during her time on the surface, but the laws Zelena established dictating their separation make no mention of the metaphysical.
Although eternal beings such as themselves do not require sleep, it is a luxury that provides many physical, emotional, and mental benefits. For them, though, something unique occurs when they are asleep at the same time. Somnus himself had taught her that they are what mortals refer to as Soul Mates. They are, he had told her, two halves of one whole and because of that no force known to heaven or earth could keep them completely isolated from one another. Space and time are irrelevant to them when they can bridge any distance to be reunited in their dreams. Unfortunately learning how to control this ability was quite complex and required many secretive lessons over the centuries for Ruby to even summon the most simple of dreamscapes for herself.
Thankfully this past summer she had at last managed to recreate the broader forest in which she and Regina first met. And tonight she was going to draw them both there as indisputable proof that there was a place beyond prying eyes they could always be together.
“Close your eyes.”
“I bet your pardon?” Regina replies, and when she attempts to prop herself up by an elbow, Ruby latches on to her arm to keep her close.
“For once do what I say without being difficult, would you please? I need you to hold me and close your eyes.”
For a long moment Regina does not comply, and though it starts to appear like she never will, Ruby continues waiting all the same. She is very good at that – waiting on Regina. In her experience, doing so never goes without reward. The woman may be more intractable and ornery than the hound that guards the gates of her dominion, but she is worth the expense of every single second of patience expended and every last ounce of effort exhausted on her behalf.
As if determined to prove her correct, Regina eventually settles back down and snakes an arms beneath the covers to wind over Ruby’s waist. A cool hand then settles in the valley of her breasts, fingers splayed wide over her heart, and Ruby shivers more in response to the welcome touch than to the algid temperature of her wife’s flesh.
“Alright then,” Ruby says, wiggling further into the embrace, “are your eyes closed?” Regina hums confirmation into the shell of Ruby’s ear. “Now, just relax, breathe, and listen...”
And when all is still and quiet once more she begins to sing:
“Time is a river that flows endlessly and A life is a whisper, a kiss in a dream.
Shadows dance behind the firelight,
And all the spirits of the night remind us: We are not alone.
Tomorrow, a sun soon rising, And yesterday is there beside us,
And it's never far away.
If you listen to the wind you can hear me again.
Even when I'm gone you can still hear the song
High up in the trees as it moves through the leaves.
Listen to the wind, there's no end to my
Love is forever a circle unbroken.
The seasons keep changing; it always remains.
Spring will melt the snows of winter and the summer gives us days of light
So long till autumn makes them fade.
Remember the sound of laughter. We ran together through the meadows;
Still we thought our hearts could break.
If you listen to the wind, you can hear me again.
Even when I'm gone you can still hear the song
High up in the trees as it moves through the leaves.
Listen to the wind and I'll send you my love.
Listen to the wind where the sky meets the land.
I'm not really gone I've been here all along
High up in the trees in the sound of the leaves.
Listen to the wind there's no end to my...
Time is a river that flows to the sea
And a life is a whisper, a kiss in a dream.”
As the song draws to an end, there is no sound or movement from Regina save from her steady breathing, by which Ruby can tell she is fast asleep. With a soft, peaceful smile, she shutters her eyelids closed and inhales deeply.
By the time she has fully exhaled, she is already kissing Regina in their meadow.
Notes: So my brain has been in actors au mode since last night and my lovely baby jan aka @loudestdork requested a lil drabble based on this pic and she knows all my weaknesses so I was absolutely powerless. This is a 1k mess of fluffy garbage but I hope you like it? Set in the future of anything I’ve written for this verse already!
Hands stroking over her back lift her from sleep; she groans, desperate for her nap to last a little longer as she buries her face in the pillow.
“Come on baby, time to get up. Kate’ll be here to do your make up in forty minutes,” Phil’s voice is soft, and the bed dips as he settles beside her, sitting next to her hip.
“Do we have to go?” she asks, voice hoarse with sleep as her hand searched for his, fingers finding the thick metal band on his fourth finger.
“Yes,” Phil smiles softly down at her, his free hand moving to brush her tangled hair from her face. Melinda sighed, sitting up and rubbing the last of the sleep from her eyes.
“So what do you think will get more traffic: the fact that you knocked me up, or that we’ve been secretly married for a year and didn’t tell anyone aside from our close-knit cast and that band of blabbermouths actually kept it quiet for the entire twelve months?” Melinda asks her husband, amusement in her voice, and Phil’s thumb brushes over the soft swell of her abdomen, lips twitching upwards.
“Who cares? Janet and Peggy have already written it in and are over the moon for us. We had to stop Daisy from practically moving in with us when she found out. This kid is perfect and healthy and growing like a champ,” Phil reminds her, pulling a smile from her. “We’ll have fun with Daisy and Deke tonight, the whole world gets to find out why I smile like an idiot every day, and I can finally wear my wedding ring all the time.”
That draws a soft laugh from Melinda, and she leans forward until she can press her forehead to his, brushing their noses together.
“I knew I kept you around for a reason,” she teased, softening her words with a kiss to his mouth. “Share my shower?”
“Like you even have to ask.”
_
The dress she’d chosen is a little daring- it’s lower cut than she usually wears, but pregnancy has boosted her cup size up considerably, and she wants to flaunt it a little bit. It tightens around her middle, and when she turns on her side, the swell of her middle that had recently started to look like a bump is on display.
Kate, her favorite makeup artist, comes to their house to do her hair and makeup, going a little darker than her every day look, and leaving her hair long and loose, curling softly down her shoulders. Melinda can see where her face has already started to change- softer around the edges than before she’d gotten pregnant. She takes a picture for Instagram and then heads downstairs where Phil is already ready and waiting, chatting with Kate.
His jaw drops at the sight of her, and she can’t help but smirk at the look in his eyes as she descends the stairs, shoes clicking against the hardwood floor.
“Mel…” Phil starts, and Kate claps his back.
“My work here is clearly done,” she says, beaming, and waves at Melinda. “Bye guys, and congrats again- I’m so happy for you!”
“Thank you, Kate,” Melinda replies, watching the dark-haired girl bounce out with her makeup case with a smile.
“You know, I guess we don’t have to go,” Phil starts, and Melinda snorts, shaking her head.
“Oh, no, I did not have all this crap put on my face just to not go out now,” she tells him. “Daisy texted, she’s leaving now, we should get there at the same time.”
She grabs her jacket, Phil helping her shrug into it, and once it’s cinched around her waist, the tiny bump is once more hidden from sight.
“Ready?” he asks, and she nods, lifting a hand to touch his cheek before she kisses him softly.
“With you? Always.”
_
“You’re here!” Daisy’s excited voice carries across the room, and she waves enthusiastically as Phil and Melinda start to shed their coats. “May, I didn’t think you’d end up doing press, and- holy shit that dress.”
And aide comes to take their coats, and Daisy’s eyes widen just like her grin does as the dress is revealed. Melinda turns to greet Deke, and Daisy gasps again.
“Oh my god. Are you finally telling-” she cuts herself off, watching as Melinda and Phil exchanged a look before both nodding, and Daisy squeals softly. She comes forward, wrapping first Phil and then Melinda into a tight hug, practically dancing as she does so. “God I cannot wait to be an obnoxious proud godmother on twitter later.”
Melinda squeezes her fingers, keeping their hands pressed together as Phil pulls his phone out, likely filming something for Instagram- Deke makes them both laugh, and everything feels light.
“You guys are next for the carpet walk,” an aide comes to get them, and Phil pulls Melinda off to the side, pulling their rings out of his pocket- he slips hers onto her finger before she does the same for him. Phil kisses her palm, his blue eyes bright.
His palm presses against her middle, and both her hands cover his for a moment, squeezing gently.
“Let’s go tell the world, Daddy,” she says softly, pulling a smile from her husband before they move to catch up with Daisy and Deke.
Cameras flash as they step onto the carpet, and Phil’s hand touches her lower back, a warm and solid reassurance in the face of reporters. They pose a bit, strategically hiding their left hands, until Melinda looks up at him and smiles. At his nod, she turns a little as his arm lifts to her shoulder, ring glinting in the light as her right hand drifts to the underside of the bump in her middle.
There’s almost a lull as the world seems to stop, and then all attention is focused on them.
“Did you get married?”
“Are you expecting?”
“How long have you been married?”
“There’ll be an official joint statement later tonight, but yes- we did get married, about a year ago, and yes, we are expecting,” Phil answers, keeping Melinda close to him; he looks down at her, unable to keep the grin from his face as she looks back up at him.
Daisy is nearly vibrating with excitement a few feet away, hands clasped beneath her chin and dark eyes wide and damp as she beams at the two of them.
“How will this impact the show and your characters?”
“Well, that would be spoilers, now, wouldn’t it?” Melinda answers, lips curved into an amused smirk. “I guess you’ll just have to watch! Fridays, 8/9c.”
She looks up at Phil, smile softening; he leans down, kissing her, and more cameras flash at the rare moment of pure affection.
if it's possible.. may i ask for a continuation of the s2 philinda angry kiss drabble that you wrote? thank you.
original drabble
After the kiss, Melinda avoids Phil- or, avoids him as best she can in a base as small as theirs, and unable to shake the feeling of his lips against hers.
She’s in the medbay, patching up a graze she’d gotten when she feels his presence in the doorway. She focuses on applying the bandage, aware of Phil moving closer, and she can feel his body heat against her back and something in her simply craves his touch.
“Simmons said you got hurt,” Phil’s voice is low, roughened as it left his throat, and his fingers gently touch the bandage now covering her upper arm.
“Just a graze,” she replies, voice quiet but somehow echoing in the otherwise silent room. “I thought you had a meeting today.”
“Moved it,” he answers simply, finger trailing over her skin, settling it ablaze, and she swallows hard, nodding. The rustle of her hair seems to draw his gaze, and his breath washes over her jaw. “Melinda.”
Her name sounds like a caress, and heat pulses low in her belly as her eyes flutter; Phil’s palms skim up her arms, and Melinda struggles to keep the walls in place- to remember their boundaries. But it’s been days since their kiss and if she’s being honest all she wants is to kiss him again- to be weak again, just for a moment.
She turns a little, opening her eyes to meet his- they’re dark blue and piercing, watching her intently.
“Don’t run this time,” he says softly, and her eyebrows contract moments before he lowers his head, mouth covering hers. She loses herself in the sensation of kissing him, counting the heartbeats they’re pressed together; Phil’s hands twine in her hair, pulling her closer, and she allows herself to succumb to the feeling of falling.
He can tell his wife is annoyed as soon as he returns home.
It had been a longer mission than planned- nearly two weeks longer than the original three days, and they were already playing with time before their second daughter was due to enter the world. But one thing had lead to another, and it had just taken longer than intended- the world had needed Cap.
“Daddy!” Ava shrieks as soon as the door shuts behind him, heading for him on newly-steady legs, crashing into his shins and wrapping herself around him. Steve bends down, scooping her up and pressing kisses to her face as she giggled, soothing the ache of being away for so long with the sound.
“I missed you so much, sweetheart,” Steve murmured, kissing her head as she cuddled into his chest, and Ava nodded.
“Me too, Daddy,” she replies, and Steve smiles. He heads for the living room, finding Melinda on the couch, a book in hand- he can tell she isn’t reading though, and that she’s uncomfortable, shifting in place.
“Hey, babe,” Steve says, and she merely lifts an eyebrow, keeping up the pretense of reading. “How’s the peanut?”
“Decidedly not a peanut,” Melinda answers, snorting, but looking up at him. “You were gone for almost three weeks.”
“I know. I’m sorry- it got messy,” he replies apologetically, and Melinda softens at what she sees on his face. “I wanted to be here with you every single second. I was terrified I was going to miss it.”
“No, she waited. Another Daddy’s girl,” Melinda muses, and Steve can’t help but smile, Ava pressing into his chest, yawning into his neck. “I think it’s someone’s naptime.”
“How about Rogers family naptime?” Steve suggested, and Melinda nodded at that, smiling. Steve extended a hand, helping her up, and once she was standing, wrapped his arm around her. He pressed his lips to her forehead, lingering, and Melinda leaned into his side, kissing his collarbone.
“I’m happy you’re home,” she murmured, and Steve smiled into her hair. Ava shifted, murmuring sleepily, and she rubbed their daughter’s back. “Alright- naptime it is.”
philinda + “You weren’t supposed to hear that.” - “Well, you shouldn’t be saying it then.” (can i ask for angst for this one?)
I don’t think this is exactly what you wanted, but i tried!
“I didn’t have a scar,” Phil says one day, looking in the bathroom mirror, chest bare. “In the Framework.”
Melinda looks up from her book, getting off the bed and walking towards him- her eyes drift to the angry red line bisecting his back.
She doesn’t say anything, just touches his back, but Phil’s stare is focused on the scar over his heart. Blue eyes blink, but his gaze doesn’t lift.
“I didn’t die in there,” he murmurs, and Melinda’s eyebrows knit together. “My life was boring, but I didn’t die. I didn’t have bullet scars or burns or this- this thing marring my chest. My heart wasn’t torn apart and sewn back together.”
“In there you were a divorced high school teacher that made his own soap,” Melinda reminds him gently, and Phil snorts. “Just like I was a Hydra agent with no friends, no family, and innocent blood on my hands.”
Phil is quiet, and Melinda’s fingers stroke over the scar along his back softly.
“Sometimes I wonder if things would be better if I’d never been put through Tahiti,” he says softly, almost an afterthought. Melinda’s motions stop, entire body going stock-still, and Phil’s eyes widen before he fumbles for words. “You- you weren’t supposed to hear me say that. Out loud. Ever.”
“Well, you shouldn’t be saying it then,” she says through hard lips, body rigid. “You needed to come back.”
There’s a pause, and Melinda swallows hard before she speaks again.
“I needed you to come back,” she whispers, gaze settled between his shoulder blades. “I’m not the person I want to be without you here. Look at who I was in the Framework without you in my life. It was so much worse here, to lose you.”
Phil turns, cupping her jaw in his hands until she looked up at him, dark eyes brimming with overwhelming sadness.
“I keep losing you,” she whispers, voice thick. “Not just in this world, but in virtual ones, and other galaxies. I lose you in every single one.”
Phil shakes his head, bending to press his forehead to hers, holding her tightly.
“I always come back. You always find me, in every single one of them. We’re never meant to be apart for long,” he reminds her, stroking her cheeks with his thumbs, brushing away tears. “We’re pulled apart but the universe always brings us back together. We always come home.”
Phil brushes his thumb along her lower lip, nudging her nose with his gently.
“No matter where I go, you always bring me home, Melinda,” he whispers. “And I will never stop coming home to you. From any universe. From any galaxy. My home is here. My home is you.”
Melinda reached up onto her tiptoes to press her mouth to his; her lips taste like salt water, and Phil holds her tighter against him.
“I love you,” she whispers against his lips, gripping his waist tightly. “I just can’t keep losing you.”
“I’m here,” he whispers back. “I’m here.”
Melinda tucks her head under his chin and holds tight.
philinda + “I can’t stay away from you.” (please use the teacher/student au the one with bobbi is phil's kid)
student/teacher verse
“Hey, Melinda- we’re doing a study group at the Library, want to come?” she looks up at Claire’s voice, the younger woman smiling at her.
“I would, but I have to get home and relieve my babysitter- next time,” she gives Claire a warm smile.
“Tell the nugget I said hi,” Claire taps her fingers against Melinda’s desk and heads out the door, following Colleen and Misty out of the classroom. Melinda continued to gather her books, pausing at the text from Natasha informing her that Daisy was throwing a temper tantrum.
“Mel,” her shoulders tighten at the sound of Phil’s voice, and she swallows hard, not lifting her gaze.
“I have to go home,” she tells him softly, zipping her backpack shut and standing. “And we...we said we couldn’t do this. We can’t, Phil.”
“I can’t stay away from you,” his confession is a mere whisper, ripped from his throat, and she raises damp eyes to look at him. “You’re all I can think about. This was our last class. What do we have to lose?”
“You’re my professor,” she whispers, her bag slipping through her fingers to rest on the ground as she takes a step forward, unable to break his gaze. “The...the final is in four days. We- can’t.”
Phil took his own step forward, and they were nearly touching- Melinda swallowed hard, and his gaze dropped to the movement of her throat. Her lips parted, tongue darting out to wet them, and Phil launched forward with a groan.
The kiss is searing; it feels like his hands at her waist are scorching, even though her shirt, and gasps, arms encircling his neck and pulling him impossibly closer. He smells like aftershave and tastes like coffee and she can’t stop licking into his mouth, fighting the need for oxygen to keep their mouths attached just that much longer.
When they’re forced to part, both panting, it takes Melinda a moment to open her eyes; when she does, Phil is staring at her, and her stomach drops. What have they done?
“I can’t,” she pulls away, the loss of his hands on her like a bucket of ice water. “I can’t- I’m sorry, I have to go.”
She grabs her bag and walks to the door, refusing to give in to her heart and look back. She can hear him say her name, just once, but she keeps walking, quickening her pace.
this….is not really Angst i’m sorry but there are Feelings? set post-show!
“Your beard is scratchy,” she murmurs sleepily, fingers twining in his hair as he rested his cheek against the curve of her belly. “You’re late.”
“Fell asleep in the on call room, sorry babe,” John replied, kissing where he feels the kick against his cheek, and Deb chuckles softly.
“She was asleep before you showed up,” she chides, but her voice is affectionate and her fingers start to card through his hair. “It’s always your voice that wakes her up.”
She finally opens her eyes, looking down at him with soft, dark eyes. “She knows who her daddy is.”
John’s lips quirk at that, and his palms are large and warm as they span the width of her belly, their daughter giving the occasional kick.
“I was thinking about names,” Deb starts softly, fingers scratching behind his ear as she guides his hands over her skin. “What if we name her Lucy?”
John freezes, and Deb bites her lip, shifting a little in bed and wincing- John finally moved to help her until she was settled against the headboard, back supported by the pillows.
“We don’t have to name her-” Deb starts, and John shakes his head, cutting her off with his mouth on hers- she sinks into it, his hands twining in her hair like they always did. Her eyes are damp and she’s panting when they break apart, his thumbs brushing along her cheekbones.
“I love it,” he tells her hoarsely, and his forehead sinks to hers. “I love you and I love her and I think Lucy is a perfect name.”
Deb kisses him, arms tight around his neck, and John clutches her closer, hands skimming down her sides. “I love you too, John. So much.”
“Let’s get some sleep- the doctor said she could come at any time, and one of us worked a twelve hour shift today,” he kisses her once more, and Deb turned on her side as John curled up against her back, nuzzling the joint where her shoulder and neck met.
“Probably a bad time to mention the back pain, right?” she murmurs, and John freezes until she snorts, and he nips at her shoulder. “Get some sleep. I think you’ll need it, labor partner.”
John groans and Deb laughs, linking their fingers together.
