fightlikehell | call in sick

Waiting wouldn't have helped so much. She started waking up when he got out of bed; the loss of his warmth and the shifting mattress are all it takes to rouse her just enough to monitor his comings and goings. It's not such a bad habit to develop, given how often he's injured or coming in late. The first time he says her name she groans softly. The touches get her to roll over, lips seeking his before she's fully awake. That's an instinct worth encouraging.

"Mm, morning. What's wrong, honey?"

He was hoping that she could be lulled. This time around he's grateful. Matt pulls a the blankets to lay beneath them and closet to her. Once she's facing him she gets her kiss.

"Well, right now nothing. It's gone. Whatever it was. But uh," he snickers and dips his head. "I had a thought."

Is he going to say it? He's going to have to say it out loud because she's not a mind reader.

"I was kind of pregnant."

Well she's sure awake now. Awake doesn't begin to describe it. She's just. Just staring. In shock and terror. He can't see that, but the way her heart is racing and the fact she's pretty much stopped breathing makes it pretty clear how she's reacting to that idea.

"You. No. What?"

This could have waited, he thinks again. Matt clears his throat and is not going to give into the laugh at himself, at her, at the situation.

"But it's okay. It's okay. I'm normal again." Her heartbeat and breathing pattern make him say it at least one more time. "The spell is gone." That is what it was right?

He licks his lips and gives her space, hopefully to breathe. "The soreness, dizziness, the mood swings... I mean, I wasn't actually." ...Hopefully...

She didn't need to know that part at all, really. Really, not at all. He might find it funny, but he's not the one who's spent half her life stifling maternal instincts she knows she can never, ever indulge.

When the shock starts to wear off and she can breathe again, the first thing she does is grab a pillow to throw at him. "Don't even joke about that. Just don't." They could have had such a nice day. But now she's getting mad. That was needlessly cruel, Matthew.

The funny is fleeting. Heat signatures in her face and pillow launched he could dodge it. Matt doesn't because he sees a mistake too late. He purses his lips and holds the fabric and fluff. "Sweetheart," if she'll allow him that one word endearment, "Verity." To be more serious now. That's what happens when you step into someone's issues.

He rubs his mouth, no longer smiling, and sets the pillow beside him. "I..I wasn't trying to make a statement. I'm sorry."

The anger will be fleeting too. Not so quick as his humor, but the endearment and the apology do help her start to calm down. She isn't quite ready to go back to cuddling, which is a shame, but there's no more attacks--and that's something.

"I know. I just." She sighs, pushing herself up and scooting toward him so she can take his hand. "It's hard to get serious about someone as Catholic as you and not think about what I can't have sometimes."

Congrats, Matt: you have now entered the Serious Conversation Zone.

All he was thinking about was a sense of normal. And it is normal right now in a way he didn't think of. They can sit and be frank in various states of undress. Cuddling and body contact would have been prefered. Matt sits up a little more.

His hand is her's to take. Matt curls his fingers around hers to make up for any touch they're not having for now. His eyes skim the air around her face, following her words and lip movements. "You have me. I have you. And... whatever else comes to us, with us will." That's not what she saying, or what she's asking of him. "Why do you say can't like it's an absolute, honey? Like there'd be no way at all?"

Verity's grip on his hand is tight, a little angry and a little scared. She isn't even thinking about their state of undress right now, just how hard this is to tell him.

"No, I made sure of that years ago. I can't risk passing on the curse." It's a simple little pair of statements that shouldn't be so hard to say. There's so much more that's not being said. She watches his eyes darting around, wondering why he still does that. "I'm sorry, maybe I should have told you sooner."

Grip for grip it is. And sensing that it isn't enough, at least for her own good, he makes the first move to come closer.

Matt blinks as he listens. It's not disappointment for what won't be that strikes his heart but what it would have taken her to make the decision. He leans to touch his forehead to her's. "I'm sorry I pushed you to tell me before you were comfortable. You don't have to apologize, Verity. That must have been incredibly difficult to do let alone have to talk about to your dopey, curse recovering boyfriend at...." he furrows his brow and tilts his head. "It's 4AM? 5AM?"

At any rate he moves to kiss her forehead. "I love you. And I don't think I'm a suitable father with the choices I've made." This is the first time he says it out loud.

Ver lets out a breath when he approaches, closing her eyes and leaning toward him. Forehead to forehead, she releases his hand to wrap her arms around him. "It was hard," she admits. "I'm kinda glad you know." There's a clock, but neither of them can see it right now. So the question gets a shrug. "Early. It's okay. The time doesn't matter."

The kiss makes her sigh, but the words make her a little teary. "I love you too. I love you so much."

Forehead to forehead and now arms, that's an improvement. Matt reaches to pull her close too and rest against the headboard and what's left of the pillows. "Thank you for telling me. I'm sorry I put you on the spot." Like this. He lightly shakes his head at himself. "I'm terrifically blessed with you and all that you are. Don't even worry about what I think. We can think about our future together as you and me."

Salt and a dip in her voice. Oh Verity. "I love you," he says again with certainty and he tips her chin to be able to kiss one eye lid.

"It's okay. It's not like there's an easier way to segue into the topic," she points out. She almost has some humor in her voice. "What was I supposed to say, 'gee, honey, I hope the only babies you like are carrots'?" Silly Matt. Silly and sweet. She'll shift again to lean against him, head on his shoulder and cuddled against his side. "I'm so glad we have a future."

Well. Now he knows her dirty little secret. "I love you too." If he's going to tip her chin up only so far, she's going to finish the job and give him a kiss.

"I guess not." There are harder too. Her little joke pulls up a ghost of a smile. "Quiches are the other kinds I like." Carrots are good for the eyes they say. Oh Murdock. Matt tightens his arms around her. "We do have a future, love. My sweet, sweet, love." It's a sigh of relief and gratitude at the pressure of her head on his shoulder, how her hair feels on his bare skin, flesh to flesh.

The kiss is awhile coming. It makes it taste even more delicate and worth savoring.

"Quiches. I'll keep that in mind." Much harder. And now it's done. Ver's so glad he understands. However disappointing this is. The reassurances help. Skin to skin is the best way to be. Maybe this is the best possible time to talk about these things. "A nice future," she hopes.

It's a kiss she'll savor. And the one after.

"So are we up for the day? You want some breakfast?"

She's never disappointing. And being frank about what some distant tomorrow may (in this case may not) have will only make their planning more thorough, more real. Matt can't find it in his heart to be disappointed in her. How could he raise a family while raising his fists to crime? Taking the time to be with Verity and their duel reality existence is also something that would be a logistic hardship. And Nelson and Murdock would need far more clients. It's enough to make your head spin.

He comes back to the moment. Verity's lingering perfume, the ticking of a clock. Their breathing. "It's going to be nice because I'll be with you." If he had a million dollars he'd bet on it out of that much certainty.

"No, let's....stay in longer." The comforter and blanket are pulled back up and around them once more.

It's good he isn't disappointed; she'd have a hard time living with the knowledge she'd disappointed him about something like this. But she's disappointed, mostly in herself for having a stupid little hope he might choose her someday. That they might have a real family, somehow, that...

She knew he never would. But hope is evil like that, it sneaks in when you're not looking.

"Yeah. It'll be so nice." She'll be with him, and that's enough. Whatever he can give her will be enough. When the comforter's pulled up she sighs and cuddles in closer. "Thank you."

It'd be more disappointing to have to refuse her anything. The decision is out of their hands. At least in some way. Matt will not try and depress her or give her false hope with the story of Sarah. She was well beyond childbearing years and God wanted her pregnant and so she was. A real love is what they need, a real family? That comes in different shapes, sizes and forms.

Any life, any time with her is worth the effort. Hope should never be cruel or evil. It springs for a reason.

Some babies are furry.

The comforter canopy goes up and over his head too as he hunkers down against her. "We're not going anywhere for the next nine hours or so. Just want to put that out there." Matt kisses her shoulder and then finds her mouth in that effortless way he does.

No, Matt, puppies are not babies.

If it were only the wanting of a baby, she'd be more than capable of adopting one. It's the wanting of a family that needs his cooperation. She knows the pain of growing up without a father and she won't inflict that on anyone else if she can help it. And she knows the heroing will always come first, so. There's no point in telling him. It's all perfectly logical.

She giggles when he pulls the comforter up and over their heads. "Nine hours?" Kissing her is a good way to keep her from arguing about that. Mostly. Eventually, he has to let her up for air. "I'm going to get thirsty."

Adopting would mean that some orphan out there would be given a chance he never had for a second family. Or a first. A mother and a father together is the ideal arrangement. But could he be a father that he should trying to defend a city? The sad, solid answer at this juncture is no. Logic is what hurts. Not hope. Matt would never want to let Verity down for any reason. To let her and any young life they'd hope to nurture get anything less than they deserve?

This is heavy stuff for so early in the day.

"Too many? What about eight? Seven?" More kisses come and it makes it warmer where they're curled up in the best kind of way.

"I have legs. I'll get you whatever you want."

The only person in this relationship who really disappoints Verity is herself. Never fear, Matt, you're still wonderful in her eyes.

"Too few," she counters, shifting to kneel with a knee on either of him. "I want at least a dozen of your hours. But we'll both want food, too. So we should negotiate some meal breaks. I know, having to stand up is going to be horrible, but for you, I'll find a way to work through it."

Well-played, Mister Fancy Lawyer-Man. Getting her to negotiate for exactly what you wanted.

That's not enough, still. He couldn't possibly allow her to feel bad about herself when he loves her so. She is wonderful to him.

"Ah, so twelve or thirteen." Arms fit so well around her, they'll stay that way. "Hmmm," he hums thoughtfully with his head against her shoulder. "Well, I know that there is a very packed refrigerator and at least a handful of things that only need to be microwaved. Let's start negotiations when we're good and ready for them. You should be lazy and relaxing at least eight or nine of the twelve to thirteen hours."

Matt doesn't allow her to feel or not feel anything. He's not that much the boss of her.

In this, one or the other of them is going to be hurt, and he's not so good at stopping her from martyring herself sometimes.

"At least," she presses. His arms are a perfect fit around her. She'll find a way to fit hers around him too while she nuzzles into his hair. If asked, she'd protest she's just letting him think about it. Yeah, right. "I find cooking relaxing," she points out, "but I'll concede not everything needs to be complicated. So when it's time for breakfast, I'll make something really simple. But. If I'm going to be lazy and relaxing for at least eight hours, so are you."

Ah, it's true. So true. He has not that power or authority. She's her own person. And his will can't be exerted so very much no matter what heights and depths his love for her goes.

Two martyrs. How will they get by? Matt at least has someone to demonstrate the frustration he puts Verity and others through at last. Must someone be hurt?

Between the blankets and the embraces it feels like that isn't possible. "Alright. So it is spoken. So it must be."

You can lead a horse to water... and you can trust a Verity to be smarter than she is stubborn. Barely.

Maybe they'll find something better to use that wood for?

"Mm, yes. Because clearly, I'm the boss of everything." Oh, look what she's found, an ear. It gets a delicate kiss. "Besides, you know I need your good example if I'm going to do it right." This is not relaxing, is it?

Good.

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