Archive of Our Own ^beta

V was jolted unceremoniously from sleep by a hot churning in her gut. She squeezed her eyes shut and sucked in a breath, exhaling forcefully through her mouth in an effort to stamp down the building nausea. It didn’t help. A cold sweat broke across her forehead and she knew the battle had been lost before it had even truly begun.

She extricated herself from beneath Johnny’s arm before scrambling from bed to dart for the adjoining bathroom. Her knees stung as they cracked into the tile a fraction of a second before her stomach upheaved itself into the toilet bowl. It was not quiet. And not for lack of trying.

As she tried to level out the shaking of her breaths, she heard the soft padding of bare feet on tile. Guilt joined the bile in her stomach. She had woken Johnny up.

With her forehead resting on arms laid across the seat, she slowly tipped her face toward the sound. His worried expression came into view as he knelt at her side. He placed the cool metal of his left hand at the back of her neck and she released a wobbly sigh.

“Again?”

She nodded. Even that simple motion sent a fresh wave of nausea rippling through her insides.

“This’s four days in a row, Vaye. Ain’t goddamn food poisoning,” he said softly, bringing up her initial self-diagnosis. “Oughta see Vik. Make sure nothin’s gone whack.”

“Yeah…” V swallowed thickly. “What time is it?”

He raised himself slightly to peer over the counter at the clock on the mirror, “Six thirty-two.”

“Fuck…sorry for waking you up again.”

“Knock that shit off.” His hand moved to rub circles between her shoulder blades. “How big of an asshole would I be if I stayed in bed while my girl was worshiping the porcelain throne?”

“No bigger than usual,” she quipped.

“Oh, so you're feelin’ well enough to be a bitch then?” He started to pull his hand away.

“No, don’t,” she whined at the loss of contact and sat up slightly to meet his eye. “Please? That felt nice. Talking helps me not hurl again, remember?”

He started tracing her spine with his knuckles. “I know, darlin’. Not goin’ anywhere. Just givin’ you shit — talkin’.”

“Knew I shoulda sprung for the next tier biomon. Could just run a full scan and I’d know what part’a me is broken this time.”

Johnny’s brows knit, “Ain’t broken.”

She straightened and scrubbed her hands over her face, muffling her words, “Startin’ to feel like it.”

Four days of waking up at the asscrack of dawn to empty her stomach. Four days with nausea lingering at the back of her throat, making her hesitant to even attempt a full meal. If she wasn’t broken in some way, then she had no idea what the hell was wrong with her.

“C’mon,” he stood and held his hand out, “let’s get you back to bed.”

Even separated, in body and mind, he could still read her like an open book. He knew when her thoughts were spiraling toward oblivion.

For a breath, V simply blinked at his hand. Go back to bed? She flicked poppy red eyes up to his, “I’m just gonna hafta get up in an hour, hon.”

“Not if I tell Rogue you ain’t comin’ today. You’re sick as hell. She can handle shit.”

With a resigned sigh, she took his hand and let him help her to her feet. He had a point. She wasn’t in any condition to be cutting gigs or setting up crews running on so little sleep and even less food.

After shuffling her back to bed, Johnny laid down and tucked her into his chest. She rested her palm over his heart to feel the thump of his existence beneath her hand. It was a habit she had gained since this third shot at life. It calmed her, him too.

He dropped a kiss to her hairline, mumbling reassurances, “It’s not a big deal. More important to get you figured out, and I know she’ll agree.”

“I know,” she muttered, “but lemme call her. It’s still my shit to handle.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

With his heart beating beneath her palm and weariness soaking her bones, it didn’t take long for her to fall asleep again. Of course, it was nothing more than a nap to chase away the rest of her queasy stomach. At eight o’clock, her alarm went off. It belted out the latest Us Cracks song at an ungodly volume and the both of them groaned. They had picked this alarm tone for the sole reason that they detested it enough to always get up and shut it off.

“Fuckin’ hate this song,” Johnny’s complaint was muffled into her hair.

“That’s the point,” she grumbled.

Eyes still closed, she rolled away to blindly slap the top of the alarm, fumbling briefly for the off button until the thing finally shut up. Sighing, she rubbed her palms against her cheeks in an attempt to scrub the weary fog from her mind before making to get up. She stopped short when Johnny lurched after her, wrapping both arms around her middle to drag her back into bed.

“Nuh uh, you’re not goin’ anywhere.” He pulled her back against his chest, dropping soft kisses to her shoulder and neck as she squirmed. The scratch of his beard on her skin made her laugh between feigned complaints. Her giggling subsided slowly and he kissed the back of her neck, holding her securely while his ‘ganic thumb caressed her side.

V puffed her cheeks with a resigned exhale before bringing his chrome hand to her lips. “I gotta get up, hon. Gotta call Rogue.”

“Can do that without gettin’ up,” he countered.

True. She couldn’t argue that. As she rolled to the side and reached toward the table for her phone, she asked, “Do you have anything on your plate today?”

He propped himself up on his left arm and hummed in thought for a moment. “Not really. Was gonna see Ker for a bit, but don’t wanna leave you home alone when you’re feelin’ like shit.”

On her back, scrolling her contacts, she frowned and flickered a glance at him, “Don’t you have a deadline for that EP?”

“Pfft. Fuck that.” He rubbed his eyes. “It’s done when it’s done. Not in a hurry. ‘Sides, you’re more important.”

“Kerry won’t mind?”

“Sweetheart, if I even mention you’re feelin’ under the weather, you’ll have care baskets showin’ up by noon.”

“Okay, fair,” she laughed.

She bundled her pillow to prop herself up into a slouch against the wall and dialed Rogue before bringing the phone to her ear. Making calls through her optics still gave her a headache even after months with the new Kiroshis. Neither she, nor Vik, had yet to find the cause for that; but there were worse things she could be having problems with, so she was content to handle calls the old-fashioned way.

The line turned over and Rogue’s cool greeting came in, “V. Surprised you’re calling. Something the matter?”

“Hey, Rogue. No—“ She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Well, yeah. I’m not gonna be makin’ it to Afterlife today. Was hopin’ you could handle things for me?”

“Everything alright? You sound…tired.”

Damn her impeccable perception. “Yeah just…Gotta go see my doc. Been sick for a few days, can’t keep anything down. I was hopin’ it’d clear up on its own, but no dice.”

As she spoke, Johnny maneuvered himself to lay with his head in her lap, ‘ganic arm wrapping around her waist while he flicked through his phone in the other hand. She felt his fingers trace her spine and brought her free hand down to comb through his hair.

Rogue hummed. “Not pregnant are you?”

V froze. Pregnant? Her fingers stilled against Johnny’s scalp. That wasn’t possible. Both of them had been told as much; she was sterile thanks to her cloned meat suit, and his swimmers were fried from radiation and fifty years on ice. Not possible. Absolutely ridiculous.

“N-no? Can’t be,” she stated matter-of-factly.

Johnny picked up on the tension in her tone and looked up with a confused frown. She shook her head dismissively, but he wasn’t buying it. His brows only knit tighter.

“Right, the cloned body bit. Well, get yourself to the doc. I’ll handle things here. Keep me posted, V. Take care.”

The line went dead, yet it was a few breaths before V pulled the phone from her ear and dropped it onto the table once more. Still attempting to process Rogue’s question, she felt a headache beginning to prick at her temples.

“You okay?” Johnny set his phone aside and pushed himself up to sit between her legs. The same concerned frown darkened his expression as he smoothed his palm up and down her thigh. “Look like you’re gonna hurl again.”

She almost felt like she could have. Only this time it wasn’t a physical nausea generating cold sweat on the back of her neck. Shoving that thought away, she tipped forward to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “I’m fine. Think I just need to shower.”

“You’re not fuckin’ foolin’ me,” he narrowed his eyes.

V tucked her legs before turning from him to sit at the edge of the bed and pull her sleep shirt off. “I’m not tryin’ to.”

Before she could stand, Johnny had lunged forward to cup her breasts in both palms and pull her, giggling, back against his chest. The coarse hairs of his beard tickled her neck as he kissed her before asking, “Did your tits get bigger or’m I dreamin’?”

“You’re definitely dreamin’,” she laughed and covered his hands with hers. “Can I go shower now? Or you need a few minutes of fondling to wake up?” He hummed, massaging his fingers into her flesh for a moment. A sigh left her, she should have expected no less from him, especially first thing in the morning. “Do you wanna just join me? That help make up your mind?”

Sly satisfaction colored his tone, “Yeah, think that might be the best option. Y’know, with you not feeling a hundred percent ‘n’ all.”

“Riiight, cause that’s the reason.”

V craned her neck to kiss him properly before lurching off the bed and taking his hand to string him along after her. They took their time showering, savoring the little bubble of peace it allowed them. As always, he griped at her “lobster water” and she scolded him for still using the same all-in-one body wash he had been for months.

She was toweling her hair, with another wrapped snugly around her body, while she complained, “It’s really not fair, y’know?”

“What’s not?” He scrubbed his own towel over his head, joining her at the vanity. The rest of him was bare and still glistening with the water droplets he had deemed unworthy of drying away.

“You basically get to use dish soap for your,” she waved a hand at him, not bothering to hide where her eyes lingered, “everything, and it doesn’t even matter. You don’t even condition your hair!”

Feigned insult colored his features, putting a wrinkle in his nose and between his thick brows, “Hey, hey — it’s not fuckin’ dish soap, it’s multipurpose. ‘Sides, said you like how it smells.”

“That’s not the point.” When he had bought it, the first thing he’d done was pop the lid and puff the bottle under her nose for her approval. As if the musky blend of cinnamon and sandalwood was something she’d ever dislike — and he had known that. “If I used that stuff, my skin would be a fuckin’ mess within a week,” she huffed. Now finished with drying her hair, she tossed the towel aside and leaned over the counter to swipe kohl across her eyelids.

“What can I say?” He dropped his towel on top of hers. “Not my fault I’m god’s fuckin’ favorite.”

“You are such an ass.”

Johnny dropped a kiss to her shoulder. “Love the way you sweet talk me, darlin’.”

Johnny squealed tires as he swung the Porsche out into traffic and her stomach turned over on itself at the sudden inertia. Puffing her cheeks out with a heavy breath, she groaned.

He immediately dropped a gear and warily glanced over at her, “You okay?”

“Yeah. Think so?” She took a few steadying breaths; in through her nose, out through her mouth. The queasy feeling subsided, but her forehead still felt clammy and hot. “Just take it easy around the corners?”

“Sure, whatever you need, sweetheart.” He settled his hand on her leg, thumb comfortingly stroking the top of her thigh. “The hell’s goin’ on with you. Never get sick in the car.”

“If I knew, we wouldn’t be goin’ to see Vik,” her reply was muffled as she scrubbed a hand over her face.

The rest of the drive was filled with the low drone of Morro Rock and her steady, huffed breathing as she held her nausea down with an iron fist, eyes closed against the rush of the city outside the window. She would be damned if she let herself puke in the Porsche. Though she was sure it wouldn’t be the first time someone had hurled on the floor mats, she didn’t want to be the most recent on record. Just thinking about the potential cleanup filled her with hypothetical shame.

V felt the car slow to a creep before stopping completely. Johnny cut the engine and squeezed her leg, “Hey, we’re here. Don’t make me carry your ass, ‘cause I will.”

She snorted a laugh as she peeled her forehead off the cool glass of the window, “Still owe me that whole just married, carryin’ me over the threshold bit.”

“Not gonna let that go, are ya? Just like the lip.” With his ‘ganic hand, he curled a knuckle under her chin and thumbed the place he had scarred on her bottom lip so long ago — in her previous body. There was nothing there now except a memory. She smiled before he leaned in to kiss her. “C’mon, darlin’, let’s go get you figured out.”

The soft chime of bells greeted them as they entered the Esoterica. Immediately followed by a head of blonde hair popping around the back wall and Misty’s beaming smile. “V, Johnny, good to see you,” her airy voice was as warm and sincere as always. A slight pout broke her smile, “Here to see Vik? Something wrong?”

“Hey, Misty. Yeah…Not been feelin’ too hot lately,” V offered her best reassuring smile. The last thing she needed was her friend worrying too.

Johnny’s hand tightened on her waist, “By ‘not too hot’, she means she’s been pukin’ her guts up for half the week.”

She shot him a disgruntled frown that he met with his own disapproving stare. He hated it when she downplayed things. After all they had been through, he refused to let her play pretend when something was wrong now — a fact she found both irritating and endearing at the same time.

Concern colored Misty’s features as she approached with an outstretched hand. “May I?”

“Uh, sure,” V shifted on her feet.

Her friend’s hand was cool when she laid her palm flat against her chest and closed her eyes in concentration. Johnny rolled his eyes to the ceiling, never one to put any stock in what he called “mystic mumbo jumbo” despite the multitude of times such readings had been spot on — or close enough to be uncanny, at least. Misty frowned briefly before pulling away and folding her arms over her middle.

Suddenly uneasy, V fiddled with the ring on her left hand, “What’s with that face?”

“You're very orange. Red too.” Misty brought a hand to her mouth, as she was prone to do when mulling things over. “Not in a bad way. Almost like…the way things were when the two of you were one. I’m not getting anything that tells me you’re ill, V. Your aura is muddled though.”

“Don’t really like muddled,” Johnny grumbled.

V nudged his side teasingly with her elbow, “Thought you didn’t believe in this stuff.”

“Don’t. That’s why we’re seein’ Vik.” He started toward the back door, nodding sincerely at Misty as he guided their path, “Good seein’ you.”

“You too, Johnny,” she smiled and watched them leave, returning V’s small wave with her own as they slipped out into the adjoining alleyway.

As they reached the steps leading down to the ripper doc’s clinic, Johnny loosened his hold on her waist but kept his hand at the small of her back.

“Wish you’d stop lettin’ her do that shit,” he huffed.

V smirked up at him, “Why? ‘Cause she’s usually on to somethin’?”

His eyes skittered away and he set his jaw with a stubborn tension she knew all too well, “Don’t be fuckin’ dense.”

He could deny it all he wanted, but she knew the truth was that it unsettled him how on the nose Misty’s readings had been in the past. Superstitious, or not, he could never truly discredit the things she’d anticipated in their lives — at least not to V.

That was a fact that had set a thread of unease running through her mind, tangling itself up with Rogue’s earlier remark to form a neat little knot of uncertainty at the back of her thoughts. She was thrown back to reality with the clatter of steel as Johnny pushed the gated door aside and they stepped into the basement clinic.

The familiar sound of boxing bells and shouting announcers preceded Vik’s warm greeting as he looked up from the television on his desk, “Hey, there kids. Long time no see.” He stood and flipped the boxing match off.

“Hey, Vik.” V strode forward to give the old ripper a hug, smiling widely as he crushed her into a warm embrace the same way he always did.

Vik released her after a moment and extended a hand, “Johnny. How’s the arm holding up?”

He gave him a firm handshake in return, “Can’t complain. Sensors’re still better’n ever. Elbow creaks sometimes, but she’s helpin’ keep it goin’.” He nodded at V with a crooked half-smile on his face.

“Glad to hear. What brings you two by?” Vik asked.

V rubbed nervously at the back of her neck. Part of her always hated coming here. After all of the time she’d spent here — all of his time she’d felt she had wasted — every visit to the clinic she still marked down as a debt incurred. Even when she knew full well that he didn’t see it that way. Picking up on her unease, Johnny slid his palm to her back again and the comforting warmth of his skin spurred her on.

“Been kinda not so great the last few days,” she hedged.

“Gonna need a little more to go on than that,” Vik said flatly.

She sighed, “Can’t keep much down lately. Throwin’ up in the middle of the night. Thought it was just a bout of food poisoning, y’know?”

“It’s been goin’ on for four days,” Johnny cut in.

Vik hummed. “And you’re not sick?” He asked him.

Johnny shook his head, “Nah, feel fine.”

“Well, let’s get you checked out,” he waved V over to the ripper chair before taking his usual stool on the other side of the monitors. “You know the drill.”

She slid into the seat and leaned back before jacking her link cable into the chair and idly watching the loading bars that popped up onto her optics display. Johnny took up his usual post against the wall and lit a cigarette, blowing his smoke away from them — begrudgingly courteous, after Vik’s previous scoldings for smoking in his work area.

The ripper doc was silent for a moment as he flicked through screens with one hand knuckled beneath his chin. He leaned closer to the screen, “Your cyberware all checks out. No malware, no viruses — digital or organic. White count’s normal. Heart rate’s a little high though…”

He trailed off and she caught the flicker of a frown cross his face as he leaned back and brought his hand over his mouth. His nostrils flared with a deep breath.

Unease churned in her gut. “What is it, Vik?”

“Need to run a quick blood test.” He tapped the monitor, then grabbed a syringe gun and peeled it from its sterile pack as he rolled his stool closer, “Might be a fluke, but I want to be sure.”

“Oookay?” V couldn’t keep the edge from her voice.

A blood test? Johnny met her nervous glance with a frown and pinched his cig out before coming over. He hovered at her side, placing a hand on the headrest. She hadn’t needed blood work in months. Not since her new body had been cleared as healthy, stable, and safely functioning with a sturdy immune system.

Vik turned the inside of her elbow up and swiped an alcohol pad across the area before setting the mouth of the gun over her skin. “Little prick.”

She knew the drill. The nip of the needle hardly even registered, and it was finished in a matter of seconds, leaving a small red dot behind as Vik retreated and popped the tiny vial out. He dropped the sample into a machine behind her seat and returned to his place at the monitor, resuming a pensive posture. His brow knit.

The seconds ticked by like hours. V chewed her lip as anxiety coiled around her; she had never done well with waiting for things like this. Feeding off her energy, Johnny tapped his fingers impatiently against the headrest. When she glanced up, she found his attention focused so intently on the monitor that his dark eyes should have been burning holes into the back of it.

“Vik, c’mon,” he urged, irritation snapping across his words.

“Can’t rush the machine, son,” the ripper shot him a warning look. “Don’t get your briefs in a bunch, it’s almost finished.”

He leaned down to her ear, “Can’t believe he thinks I’d be caught dead in fuckin’ briefs.”

Despite the anxious thrum in her chest, V let herself snicker at his snide remark and felt some of the tension slide off her shoulders. He flashed a crooked smile and pecked her cheek.

“Johnny, you might wanna take a seat.” Vik’s suggestion shuttered the brief window of ease the two had pried open.

He frowned, looking first at V, and then back to the ripper, “Why?”

Vik pinched the bridge of his nose, “Just humor me this time?”

V jacked out and swallowed thickly. She scooted to the side, tugging at Johnny’s jacket in a silent plea for him to do as he was asked for once in his life. His frown only deepened, but he sat down next to her hip and twisted with his hand planted on her other side so he could partially face him.

Apprehension pulled Vik’s expression tight as he shifted his gaze between the two of them before settling on V. He took a deep breath, “You’re pregnant.”

Johnny went rigid at her side. The air seemed to rush from the room, shrinking the entirety of her existence down to this single moment in time. That was impossible. Vik, himself, had told her as much just a handful of months ago. Her body couldn’t do that — she was sterile.

Something hot and hysterical clawed at her insides. V let out a huffy laugh, and then sobered like the flip of a switch, “No, I’m fuckin’ not.”

“Yes,” Vik repeated, steadily, “you are.” He turned the monitor their way to point at her blood work results, “Probably about eight or nine weeks based on your hormone levels. Did you not notice you weren’t menstruating?”

Silent as the grave, Johnny stared at the monitor. Dark eyes roamed the screen but he didn’t look like he was seeing it at all. He was somewhere else.

It felt as if she were watching the scene from the outside. As if she wasn’t really there, just a proxy of herself sitting in this seat.

“I…” She pulled in a shaky breath, trying to gather her thoughts well enough to pluck out the answer to his question. “Uh…no. No, I haven’t had a cycle since I came back.”

“That ain’t fuckin’ mine,” Johnny muttered.

Raw anger snapped beneath her skin. She whipped her head around, slamming a hand into his chest with enough force to make him grab the armrest to stay seated, “The fuck’s that s’posed to mean?! Think I cheated on you?!”

“Well, I can’t fuckin’ knock you up, so what else should I think?!” he snarled. His chrome hand dug unforgivingly into the seat, splitting the vinyl upholstery. “Shootin’ goddamn blanks!”

“You’re fucking unbelievable!”

Vik cleared his throat.

“I’m unbelievable?! You—”

“You really fuckin’ think I’d do that??” She cut in, vehemently, volume rising to echo off the walls. “Did you forget that I’m s’posed to be sterile too?!”

The ripper tried again, “Kids—“

“Fuckin’ hell, V! Think I just un-nuked myself or some shit–”

“Knock it off!” Vik bellowed. They both snapped their mouths shut, yet continued to glare at one another. “Johnny.” Reluctantly, the rockerboy flickered his attention to him. “Shut your trap and give me your arm.” He picked up and opened a fresh syringe gun and held his other hand out expectantly.

Johnny huffed through his nose before jerking his sleeve up to offer his arm. “Told me your fuckin’ self I’m sterile. How the hell would that change?”

“Stranger things have happened,” Vik grit out, visibly forcing his own temper in check. “Like both of you coming back from the dead, for example.” He went through the same motions he had to clean V’s arm and then said, “Jack in, too.”

V refused to look at either of them. With her arms wrapped tightly around her chest, she pressed herself as far back into the chair as she possibly could. It was a cheap effort to distance herself from the reality of the situation at hand, but it was all she had right then. She was pregnant. And Johnny had just accused her of fucking other people. She couldn’t be sure which stung more: that her body had betrayed her, or that the love of her life thought she could void his trust so entirely.

He hadn’t budged from his seat, only shifted slightly so his leg was no longer touching hers — an absence she felt like the loss of a limb. She registered Vik taking his blood sample and dropping it into the machine the same way he had done with hers, but it was like watching through a fog. Her mind was checking out, folding in on itself to keep her stable. There was no way in hell she could do this without Johnny.

Vik sounded far away when he asked, “Have you been using any kind of protection?”

A tense shake of her head was all V could muster and she felt Johnny’s eyes land on her with the motion. Chancing a glance his way, she found concern lacing the fire that still backed his gaze. She shied away again and heard him release a tight breath.

“You’re clean, Johnny,” Vik muttered. “Judging by these numbers, have been for a few months, at least.”

“What?”

“Your hormone levels are normal too.”

That pulled V out of her head. She turned to face the monitor as Johnny leaned across her legs again, the both of them staring at the charts on the screen. His radiation levels had not only dropped, they were nonexistent. She clenched her jaw and threw a furious look his way, balling her fists into the sleeves of her jacket.

Johnny scanned the results again and again, “How’s that even—“

“Still think I fuckin’ cheated on you?” She spat the words at him. She couldn’t help it. Bitter anger chewed at her heart like a savage animal, and there was no keeping it in.

“V—“

“I need some air.” She shoved him back far enough to slide from her seat and beelined for the exit without looking back. The sound of his hurried movements faded behind her as she left the clinic: the creak of the chair and the sharp metallic shuck of him jacking out of the port as quickly as he could.

“Vaye, wait!” His boots hit the floor and immediately ground to a halt.

“Give her some space.” Vik’s tone was firm and unmoving.

She stopped a few feet outside of the door and pressed her back to the wall, attempting to compose herself. Out of sight, but still within earshot, she heard a brief scuffle inside the clinic, and then Johnny’s low, incensed, baritone.

“Can’t just fuckin’ let her go like that.”

“Then you shouldn’t have said what you did, and you damn well know it. That girl’s a lotta things, but unfaithful isn’t one,” Vik bit back.

She heard a shuffle, a single step, a weight dropping back onto the seat, and the creak of vinyl.

“Fucked this up already, Vik. Not cut out for this shit.”

A lump formed in her throat. Salt stung the corners of her eyes.

“Too bad. You better get cut out.” The sound of metal wheels on cement, and she could picture Vik rolling his stool across the floor. “She needs you, regardless of which direction you two wanna go with this. Pull your head out of your fucking ass.”

V could count on one hand the number of times she had heard Vik swear. His language was usually reserved and professional no matter the situation, but hearing him stray from that cool demeanor was the last straw that broke her from her numb disbelief. She clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a gasping sob and whirled towards the stairs.

She could feel the tears on her cheeks; registered the sting in her eyes, and how her nose had started to run by the time she hit the street, but her brain hadn’t caught up to her body yet. When the Porsche came into view, it only got worse. Real, gut-wrenching sobs wracked through her then. She paced the length of the sidewalk in front of the Esoterica with her arms hugging her middle and her teeth clenched in an effort to bar the sounds of her distress from escaping into the world. The thought of crossing the street to that little silver car was tantamount to swimming the bay. It felt daunting – impossible – to even consider walking over and getting into the passenger seat as if things could ever be the same again.

V’s breathing shortened into tight puffs of air and she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. And then she truly broke. Her knees buckled, and she dropped to the curb with her face in her hands, choking out watery sobs against her palms.

Everything had been going so well – so normal. She and Johnny had carved out their own small, well-deserved slice of happiness after the hell they had been through and it felt like it was all crumbling around her now. All because fate had decided to change its mind without a courtesy call.

A soft touch on her back whipped her head up. Through blurry eyes, she found Misty’s empathetic frown looking down at her.

The blonde crouched at her side, making small circles against her back, “What do you need, V?”

The lump in her throat had grown painful and she struggled to swallow around it, to form words. Instead, she just shook her head and dropped her face against her knees as another wave of tears rushed down her cheeks.

Misty leaned her cheek against V’s shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong. Can just sit here if you want. Or I can drive you home, if that’s easier?”

Go home? How could she go home after this? She would end up doing the same thing she was now, only she would be waiting for Johnny to come back – if he came back. That thought brought a gout of helpless fear to her chest and she sucked in a wet, rattling breath. She didn’t want to go home and be alone, but she couldn’t stay here either, sobbing on the street.

V swiped her sleeves across her face, oblivious to what was tears and what was snot as she tried to regain some semblance of control over herself, “M-my brother’s. Can you take me to my brother’s place? Please, I don’t wanna go home, Misty.” She rocked forward. “Don’t think I can right now.”

“Sure, V,” she squeezed her shoulder before standing and helping her to her feet.

They made the drive to Northside in silence. V stared blankly out the window, watching the city slide by in blurry lines and flashes of neon. Her hands shook; she itched for a cigarette, for anything to take her nerves down, but that was something else that had to change now. Everything she had always used as a crutch was off the table.

Misty parked as close to Vince’s apartment as the lot would allow and leaned across the center console to wrap her arms around V. She didn’t say anything – she didn’t need to, never did.

V clung to her back and buried her face into the soft fabric of her sweater, letting the scent of lavender and nag champa soothe the ends of her frazzled nerves. She pulled away and sniffled, wiping her nose on her sleeve again. The blonde patted her leg, V nodded, and then she got out and started up the stairs.

Two flights brought her to the breezeway where she stood locked in place outside her brother’s apartment. She stared at the unit number without really seeing it. What was she supposed to say now that she was here? Showing up with no warning, no text. What if he wasn’t home? Should she wait for him to get back? Sit outside his door until he or his input turned up?

She wrung her hands nervously and swallowed. Then she knocked. She felt ill, her guts roiling like a bag of eels, her heart hammering against its cage. It was only a moment before the door opened, but it felt like a small eternity.

Her brother’s face appeared with his familiar boyish smile shuttering the instant he processed her appearance. Smudged makeup, eyes red and puffy from crying – her nose too, she was sure.

“What happened?”

Her throat closed up again as she choked out, “Can– can I come in?”

Vince wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her inside, guiding her toward the couch. He pulled her down with him and held her face in both hands, “What’s wrong? C’mon, talk to me.”

She wanted to get the words out but the second she tried, she felt her face scrunch up around another sob. Her teeth clenched briefly before she gasped and screwed her eyes shut, sagging into her brother’s arms. She heard Gil clear his throat on the other side of the apartment.

“Did I miss something?”

Vince tucked her head under his chin, holding her securely to his chest. She could feel him shake his head in reply, his beard catching in her hair with the motion.

“Vaye, I need you to tell me what’s goin’ on,” he murmured. “Can’t help if I don’t know.”

A wet laugh escaped past the tears. “It’s fuckin’ ridiculous. Shouldn’t even be possible.”

“What is?”

Raising her head, V pressed her palms almost painfully against her eyes in a futile attempt to clear the blur from her vision. She chewed her cheek and looked past her brother’s tight-knit expression. Gil had come to sit on the arm of the sofa by his side, mirroring his concern, one hand clenched tight against the upholstery.

She sucked down a raspy breath. “I’m pregnant…apparently.”

Two sets of eyes stared at her, one green, one grey; both incredulous and clearly trying to process the words that had just come out of her lips. Gil’s mouth fell open only to snap shut again. Vince visibly wrangled with his own emotions; his eyes darted across her face, flickered to his input, and back again, his chest rose with tight breaths.

“Are you–” He dragged a hand down his face, pulling his jaw slack for a moment. “You’re fuckin’ serious right now? A hundred percent?”

She scowled, “Think I’d be this fucked up over it if I wasn’t?”

“No, no. I– shit.”

Gil cut in, seeming to have made a faster recovery, “Where the fuck is Johnny?”

She felt Vince stiffen in his seat, the arm still around her shoulders flexing as he gripped the back of the couch. “Good fuckin’ question.” Unrestrained venom dripped from his words.

“Still at Vik’s, probably…” she trailed off, looking down to pluck at a frayed thread on her shirt. She watched it unravel between her fingers, splitting into a soft fuzz at the end, countless smaller fibers splaying softly against her skin. It looked how she felt.

“You’re not tellin’ me everythin’. How’d you get here? Better not have driven like this, I swear–”

“Misty dropped me off.” The thread split further.

Gil shoved off the arm of the couch, turning toward the kitchen as he did so, “Where’s the fucking keys.”

V’s head snapped up, “Gil, don’t.”

“Why the fuck not?” He threw an arm frustratedly in her direction, palm open, “You show up like this, tell us you’re fucking pregnant, and he’s not even fucking with you?!”

“We didn’t think this was poss–”

He cut her off, “It doesn’t fucking matter! He’s your goddamn husband, V!”

“Gil, sit down,” Vince bit out.

The two exchanged a heated look, tension snapping across the room between them for an instant before Gil threw his foot into the kitchen chair and started pacing instead. V watched him stalk from wall to wall until her brother pulled her attention away.

“What happened?”

She met his eyes only briefly before shying away from the raw emotions in those jade depths.

“It’s not something we ever thought could happen…we…fuck, everyone told us we were both sterile. I– he…” Her fingers rolled the thread into a semblance of its old self. “He didn’t take it well.”

She let go and it frayed once more. A dark splotch appeared beside it and she realized she was crying again. She couldn’t tell them what he had actually said. There was no way in hell they would ever let that go if she did.

A dangerous calm colored her brother’s tone when he asked, “How long’s it been since you left Vik’s?”

The question gave her pause and she swiped at her cheeks. Time had ceased to exist the moment she had been given the news, and she had to do some quick math to even come up with an estimate. She knew the drive over usually took ten minutes unless traffic was bad, but she had no idea if it had been or not. “I uh…I dunno. Maybe fifteen, twenty minutes?”

Vince shifted to pull his phone out and leaned forward with his arms on his knees. He didn’t look at her while he spoke, concentrating on his screen instead, “I dunno what went down, but I do know he’s probably freakin’ the fuck out right now not knowin’ where you are.”

“Wait–”

“Too late.” He tapped pointedly on his screen before tossing it onto the coffee table. “ ‘Sides I got some fuckin’ choice words I think he needs to hear.”

“Vince–”

“When’s the last time you ate? Had anything to drink? You’re pale as hell.”

It was clear that he wasn’t going to allow her to argue with him. She sighed and dropped her face into her hands. Resigning to her brother’s insistence for care, she mumbled, “Dunno, yesterday. Been puking a lot.”

He rubbed her back, “Let’s get you somethin’ bland then, ‘kay?”

All she could do was nod against her palms, she didn’t have the energy for anything else.

Johnny was pacing Bradbury Street with a cigarette burning down to the filter between his fingers when his phone chimed. He almost dropped it in his haste to pull the device from his pocket.

When he had come out from Vik’s clinic to find V gone, along with Misty, guilty panic had seeped into his bones. He had spent the last ten minutes calling everyone that had come to mind in an effort to find her. Misty hadn’t answered, and neither had Mama Welles. Rogue hadn’t seen or heard from her since that morning, the fixer had immediately picked up on his distress and promised to keep an ear out. Not reassuring, knowing how well V could disappear when she really wanted to. He had tried Judy with no luck, and had the same result with Kerry.

By then, his head was pulling him in too many directions for him to even pick a train of thought to follow through on. The whole while, his stomach had been turning over on itself, and he wanted nothing more than to be sick in the hopes that it would make his anxious, dread-slicked nausea go away.

His fingers fumbled to get his inbox open, shaking and making him hit the wrong button twice before he successfully opened the message.

Get over here and fix your fuck up

Vince
Received – 12:17 PM

“Fuck,” he exhaled and flicked the smoldering butt of his smoke into the street.

He was a fucking idiot. Why didn’t he think of calling her brother first? Now he was just trying to lie to himself. He knew why. The last person he wanted to tell that he’d royally fucked up, was him. Had she told him everything – what he’d said? There came that sick bubbling of bile in his throat again.

Johnny swallowed it down as he hastily slid behind the wheel of the Porsche and wasted no time tearing out into the street. He cut through traffic, blew red lights, and left rubber around every corner. It wasn’t safe to any extent, but he couldn’t care less – he had somewhere to be. He had shit to fix. And then reality hit him upside the head as he passed her brother’s old complex. He was still being a fucking gonk; if he wrapped his car around a pole and flatlined right now, he’d be no good to her – or his kid.

He slowed to a more reasonable speed at that thought. His kid; he knew it was his. He was going to be a father, technically, he already was. This was no broken condom or missed period. This was actual, real, solid, clear-as-day blood work – V was pregnant. His fucking wife was pregnant.

The leather of the steering wheel creaked beneath his grip as he waited at the last intersection. God, how much of a fucking asshole was he for the first thing out of his mouth to be that it wasn’t his? He slammed his ‘ganic fist against the wheel. The metal of his rings bit into his fingers and he grounded himself in the sting. It had been a knee-jerk reaction, a lapse in judgment. His old wounds rearing their ugly heads at the worst moment possible, as if to laugh in his face for thinking he deserved to have a chance at anything like a family. To think he deserved something normal.

He brought the Porsche to a hard stop in the lot and pounded the wheel again. “Shut up, shut the fuck up!” His forehead dropped against the leather, sunglasses slipping down his nose. He squeezed his eyes shut, white-knuckling his ‘ganic hand while the steel joints of his left strained in their sockets with his grip. With a wavering inhale, he grappled with his composure and sat straight.

Johnny tossed his aviators onto the passenger seat and raked his hands through his hair, pushing it off his face only to have it fall back around his cheeks. One more deep breath, steeling himself, and then he got out. He jogged up the first flight of stairs, slowing on the second as he approached the landing and the weight of emotions in his stomach turned from stone to lead.

He brought his knuckles against the door only once before it opened and Vince surged out of the apartment. The door slammed behind him at the same moment he fisted both hands in Johnny’s shirt, and forced him back against the opposite wall of the narrow breezeway, snarling at him, “What the fuck did you say to her?”

“Get your fuckin’ hands offa me,” he shoved him back a step, but the hold on his shirt didn’t relent and the collar dug sharply into the back of his neck. The bite had him gritting his teeth.

Vince released his grip only to slam both palms into his chest, “Spit it the fuck out! What’d you do?” He jabbed a finger in his face. “And don’t fuck with me, Johnny.”

The force of the impact nearly knocked the wind out of him. He always forgot that the man had chrome packed into his arms until he used it. “Fuckin’ hell, Vince.”

“Don’t.” He narrowed his eyes, brows drawn so low that only slivers of venomous green peered back at him. “I ain’t in the mood for your bullshit. We ain’t chooms right now. Do you have any idea how much of a mess she is in there?”

Johnny couldn’t hold eye contact, instead turning to glare at the stairwell, clenching his fists at his sides. He wanted nothing more than to slam his knuckles into the wall. Part of him wished Vince would hit him; break his nose or split his lip, something, anything. To hurt physically instead of dealing with the ache in his chest at what he’d done. That would be easier. He knew how to deal with that.

He fell back against the wall with a heavy sigh, shoulders pressed to the stucco as he ran his hands up into his hair and kept them there.

“I fucked up, Vince,” he said, tipping his chin up to stare at the ceiling. “Wasn’t s’posed to be able to have kids. Radiation fucked me up. Shootin’ blanks, y’know? You know. You were there for the scans, all that shit.”

He knew he was rambling, but he didn’t care. This was the only person who had been there for everything since Mikoshi. The only person, aside from V, that really knew him – who he was now, not the fuck-up he used to be. Though, he was starting to feel like he hadn’t completely left that side of him behind.

“And Vaye…” he hesitated, “She wasn’t s’posed to be able to– shit, man. None’a this was s’posed to be in the cards.”

“No fuckin’ shit.” Vince folded his arms, some of the tension easing out of his shoulders with the motion. “Doesn’t change the fact that it happened, and I’m still not hearin’ how you screwed it up already.”

“Said somethin’ I shouldn’t’ve,” he grit out, dropping his cybernetic arm to hammer lightly on the wall at his back. “Didn’t think.”

Vince looked unamused, “And? What the fuck else is new?”

“No, Vince, I really fucked this up.”

He scoffed, “What? Think she got knocked up by someone else?”

Hearing it out loud was even worse than stewing on it inside his head. Johnny set his jaw and stared at him. Of course, that would be his first fucking guess. His silence was all the answer that the other man needed, and he watched his expression shift from amused annoyance to open, disgusted, anger.

“You did not,” Vince spat, lip curled to show teeth as he took a step closer. He wanted to hit him, it was clear on his face and the flex of his forearms, nails biting into the flesh of his biceps. Truthfully, he owed Johnny a bloody nose from months ago – from the day V had woken up after he’d slammed his chrome into his face. And then that anger faded into a morose, almost pitiful frown.

Fuck, Johnny wished he’d just cash in his strike and get it over with. It’d be better than the way he was looking at him right now. “Didn’t fuckin’ mean–”

“You know her, Johnny.” The calm disappointment in his tone was worse than anything yet. “Better than anyone. Fuck, you know her in ways no one else can. How the hell could you ever think she’d fuckin’ do that to you? After all the shit you guys’ve been through. After–”

“Think I don’t know that?!” He snapped, lurching forward to get in his face. “When I said I fucked up, I goddamn meant it! Don’t need a fuckin’ lecture!” Out of habit, his hand came up to clench around the bullet amulet resting against his sternum. “You got no idea how fuckin’ sick it made me to walk outta that alley and not find her in the car. Fuckin’ hell, man…she’s carryin’ my kid! I–”

Across the breezeway, the door opened. Johnny’s stomach dropped at the same moment his heart kicked into a gallop inside his chest. V clung to the edge of the door as she peered out at him from the apartment, meeting his gaze over her brother’s shoulder with kohl-smudged eyes. Eyes that were so red and puffy from crying they nearly matched her cherry optics. His heart broke at the sight. He had done this.

Vince flickered a glance at his sister and then hissed, “You better fuckin’ get your shit straight. And apologize.” He turned on his heel and slipped past her as she stepped outside, closing the door at her back.

“Hey,” V said, meekly, bringing one hand up to clutch at her other arm, half-hugging herself.

Johnny held tighter to the pendant around his neck, “Hey…”

They stared at each other for a moment. Blood rushed in his ears with the frantic pounding of his heart. He needed to say something, anything, but the words wouldn’t come. That tide of guilt pulled him under again, filling his throat and lungs, swirling like acid in his stomach and eating away at all the things he needed to get out. That he was sorry. That he hadn’t meant it; he was a fucking gonk, a goddamn fool. That he wanted to do this with her. Despite never even considering it a possibility, never considering it would be something he would ever want. But he did. Because it was her.

“Vaye, I–”

He didn’t get anything else out before she hiccuped around a sob and crashed into him. Clutching her to him like a lifeline, he banded his arms around her as tight as he possibly could. His ‘ganic hand cradled the back of her head and he buried his nose into her hair, pulling in a shaky breath. The scent of grapefruit and patchouli soothed his nerves; the smell of home, of everything that mattered. He felt her arms cinch around his middle, her hands clinging to the back of his shirt beneath his jacket as she shook with silent sobs.

Johnny tucked his face closer to her ear. “I got you, sweetheart. Not goin’ anywhere.” He ignored how his voice trembled and cracked over the words. “Never goin’ anywhere.” Salt stung the corners of his eyes, only worsening when he squeezed them shut even tighter in an effort to keep himself in check.

“You better not,” her voice was small, muffled against his chest, “I need you.”

His throat started to close up and he swallowed around the lump that had settled there. “Fuckin’ promise.”

V nuzzled her face into his shirt and sucked in a wet breath before looking up at him. He hated seeing her cry, but fuck, was she beautiful with her cheeks ruddy and her eyes glistening beneath thick lashes.

He brought his hands up to cup her face, brushing the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs as he stared into the depths of those cherry eyes. “Didn’t mean what I said. Know you’d never–”

“I know,” she said softly, closing her eyes and leaning into his synthetic palm. It would always make his breath catch in his chest when she did that, preferring the touch of his left hand over the flesh of his right. “Can we—“ She fixed him with a hesitant stare, “Can we just go home?”

A relieved sigh left him and he tipped his forehead against hers, “Yeah, Dragonfly. Home sounds pretty damn good right now.”

Her nose brushed his and he felt her fingertips dance along his spine. “Gotta let them know I’m leavin’, ‘kay?”

“Sure,” he nodded slowly, breaking away to look at the door. As he brought his hands down around her waist, unease gripped him. He didn’t want to let her go; he never liked having her out of reach to begin with, and now that need for proximity hit him with twice its usual force. The other option was to go in and confront—

The gentle warmth of V’s hand on his cheek broke his train of thought. “You don’t have to come in,” she said. “Prob’ly wouldn’t recommend it, actually.” A tight smile tugged one side of her mouth up, dimpling her freckled cheek.

“Guessin’ they both know?”

Her gaze slid from his face to the pendant hanging from his neck, “About the…situation, yeah.” She brought her fingers to toy with the steel ring. “Didn’t tell them everything.”

Of course, she hadn’t. To tell them what he had said would have only made his arrival twice as unwelcome. He wouldn’t have had just Vince at his throat, but Gil too.

V gave his chest a gentle pat and met his eyes once more from beneath her lashes, “Wait here.”

His hands tightened on her hips of their own accord and she smiled. It was the same soft, warm, knowing smile she graced him with every morning, every night before he fell asleep with her in his arms, and in all the little moments in between. Because she knew. She knew the last thing he ever wanted to do was let go of her again.

Raising herself onto her toes, she pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Not even gonna go in, ‘kay? I’m just gonna stick my head in the door,” she reassured.

He set his jaw and nodded. Fighting everything within him that screamed not to, he released her and shoved his hands into his pockets where they immediately began worrying the inner seams and the corners of his pack of smokes. Her palm lingered against his chest as she turned away, fingertips trailing to the tip of his sternum before breaking from him entirely at the last possible second. Instead of leaving him wanting, he felt warm as he watched her cross the hall and crack the apartment door.

That feeling didn’t dissipate when Vince pushed the opening wider to glare at him, either. Yet, when that glare immediately shifted into a tight, shrewd look of exasperation, paired with a shake of his head, Johnny realized he had been staring at her with a smile on his face.

Vince muttered something that he couldn’t catch, green eyes flickering between V and beyond her to him. The corner of her mouth quirked up as she shot him a sidelong glance. Then she nodded at her brother, squeezed farther into the doorway to hug him, and turned back to the landing.

She reached a hand out as she approached. Johnny took it, but only briefly, using the opportunity to pull her against him and wrap his arms around her shoulders. She melted into him, nuzzling her face to his chest and linking her own arms around his back. She fit against him so fucking perfectly; always had, always would. This was where they belonged. This was home.

He buried his face into the hair atop her head. “Know I love you, yeah?” His words were muffled and low, for her ears only — as if there were anyone else around to begin with.

“I know.” He felt her grip his sides a little bit tighter, heard the slightest sniffle. “I love you too.” She rubbed her cheek on his chest, before taking a shaky breath and turning her face up to look at him, “Home?”

Fresh tears glistened along the waterline of her eyes, barely dammed and threatening to spill, but goddamn— “You’re fuckin’ beautiful, Vaye,” he murmured.

A watery laugh escaped her and she brought the heel of a palm up to her eyes, looking away, “You’re such a sap.”

Johnny felt that crooked smile pulling at his face again. He brushed her bangs aside and kissed her forehead, lips moving against her skin to tease, “And if you tell anyone, I’m denyin’ it.”

She giggled and warmth blossomed in his chest. He would never tire of that sound; any opportunity he had to pull a laugh from her lips, he would take.

He moved to pepper kisses on her temple and down her jaw before pressing his lips to hers, plush and velvety as always. It had only been a couple of hours since he had kissed her last, but after the roller coaster that time had been, it felt like an eternity. He broke away reluctantly, “Let’s go home, Dragonfly.”

The drive was silent. No radio, no conversation, just traffic and the sounds of the city outside the safe little bubble of the Porsche. Johnny’s hand only left her leg to shift; and V’s fingers never once disentangled themselves from his.

It wasn’t until V stood at the threshold of their apartment, watching him enter and move to light one of her incense sticks, that everything slammed into her again. She was pregnant. Eight or nine weeks. Shit.

She counted back the dates in her head. July? Had it been—

“Babe?” Johnny’s worried frown swam into focus.

Without thinking, she wrapped her arms around her middle. Hot saline beaded at the corners of her eyes as she stared at him and sniffled, her voice cracked, “I’m pregnant. Holy shit. I’m fuckin’ pregnant, Johnny.”

Before the sob caught in her throat could break loose, he was gathering her into his arms. “I know,” his words came out on a shaky breath, “I know, sweetheart.” He brought her into the apartment with a stumbling step and closed the door.

“Wasn’t s’posed to be possible,” she hiccuped.

His reply was low, nearly a whisper at her ear, “Lotta shit wasn’t. We’re both s’posed to be dead, remember?”

V clutched his shirt and a watery laugh escaped her, “Right. Two sterile zombies make a fuckin’ baby.”

She felt him tighten his arms around her and sobered. Looking up to meet his eyes, she found convoluted pools of whiskey waiting for her. Everything from hesitation to excitement, love, and fear swam behind his eyes.

He leaned away slightly, taking in her face, “Vaye, I– what do you wanna do from here?”

The question threw her nerves into overdrive, her heart into a gallop. What did she want to do? To her surprise, she realized that she hadn’t even considered the alternative to going forward. If that didn’t say enough, she didn’t know what would. But—

“It's not all up to me.” She put a hand to his cheek. Her thumb stroked the stubble beneath his cheekbone. “Either way, this takes two.”

He swallowed, voice gone raspy to argue, “I asked first.” A small, crooked smile pulled at his lips.

If they did this their entire lives would change. Again. Absolute upheaval. Again. Sure, they could continue their normal for a little while, but not long. She would eventually have to stop seeing clients at Afterlife, fixing from home was something few did — Hands being the only one she knew of that had been successful at it. On top of that, they would need to move. With less income. This apartment, though bigger than the last, had no spare bedroom.

V took a deep breath, “I— I wanna do this. If you do.” When he didn’t reel away, she went on, “Never thought I’d ever want to— to have a family. Fuck. Not in this city. Not in this— that life. But this life.” Both of her hands held his jaw now, his eyes darted across her face while she spoke, her voice wobbling. “With you it doesn’t sound so bad.”

His breathing audibly shook as he closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. The cool chrome of his left hand settled over hers. He turned his face, stubble rasping against her skin, to kiss the center of her palm.

“Never in a million fuckin’ years would I have thought I’d want anythin’ like this either,” he said, eyes opening to look down at her, warm and glassy with unshed tears. “But I do. I really fuckin’ do, Vaye. ‘Cause it’s you.” Cautiously, he placed his ‘ganic hand over her stomach, “ ‘Cause it’s our kid.”

His touch was warm, even through the fabric of her shirt. A soft sob cracked from her chest, “Are we cut out for this?”

Johnny let out a wet laugh, “Guess we gotta be, right?” He smoothed his hands across her lower back and up her sides, then back again. A comforting motion that he knew calmed her nerves. Some part of it calmed him too.

“Guess so.”

She stared up at him, scratching idly at his beard. He stared back, still running his hands over her with a soothing pressure. He brought his forehead to hers and took a series of deep breaths, the same way she would to balance herself — a habit of hers that he had kept.

V linked her arms around his neck, “Why aren’t you freaking out more over this?”

“Trust me, I am.” He took a deep, wavering breath and exhaled loudly, puffing his cheeks. “I’m fuckin’ terrified, sweetheart. When Vik said— fuck,” his fingertips pressed into her hips, urging her closer. “What I—“

She knew what he was trying to get out. Despite how much she wanted to tell him it was okay, how easy it would be to brush the elephant in the room aside, she couldn’t. What he had said still stung. Regardless of knowing he didn’t mean it, he hadn’t apologized yet. And yeah, maybe she was still mad at him for that.

As she searched his face, he ground his teeth and shied away from her scrutiny. He wasn’t ready yet. She could see it in his eyes, feel it in the tension rolling off of him in waves. She knew he felt like shit for what he had said, but she also knew that apologizing was something he had to work himself to. That was just Johnny, her Johnny. And she loved him all the same.

Tangling her fingers in the thick hair at his nape, V raised herself to kiss his cheek. “Wanna watch old movies and order food instead of doin’ this right now?” They could afford to waste the rest of the day doing nothing, and he wasn’t the only one in need of a distraction. Her brain felt like soup, mixing around and around, threatening to boil out of her eyes again.

Johnny slumped, curling forward to wrap himself around her and nod, “Whaddaya wanna eat?”

“Don’t care,” she mumbled, “anything’s better than the liquid meal shit Vince tried to make me drink. The smell alone gave me flashbacks.”

A tired laugh rumbled in his chest, “Was it vanilla or chocolate?”

The thought of both nearly made her gag from the foggy memories of her time spent catatonic in her new body. “Vanilla.” The worst one.

He shuddered in response, straightening to wrinkle his nose at her, “That shit’s fuckin’ nasty.”

“And you had me guzzlin’ it,” she jabbed an accusatory finger into his chest. The mood felt lighter already as they fell into their usual quips and banter, and some of the stress that had settled at the base of her spine melted away.

Johnny took her hand, lacing her fingers between his silver ones, and kissed her knuckles. “You’re welcome. Had to feed your vegetable-ass somethin’.”

“Didn’t thank you,” she countered, stubbornly.

“Don’t need to,” he fixed her with warm, caramel eyes. “Takin’ care’a you is what I do.”

“Okay, alright.” V felt a fresh wave of tears threatening to spill and buried her face against his front, “You’re gonna make me fuckin’ cry again, can we just order food, please?”

She felt his lips at the crown of her head, “Whatever you want, Dragonfly.”

They wasted the afternoon on greasy Chinese buffet takeout and a marathon of shitty movies. V was determined to make the most of her appetite and, for once, kept up with Johnny. Out of two huge sacks of food, only a few cartons of fried rice, a box of potstickers, and two containers of orange soy-chicken made it into the refrigerator.

By four o’clock, she was dozing off against Johnny’s side halfway through the third installment of some old fantasy movie from the teens about four short fellows and a wizard. The story had lost her attention by the end of the second film, and her focus was long gone by the time the third started. With a full stomach, fried nerves, and exhaustion seeping into her bones, she didn’t stand a chance.

A gentle squeeze on her shoulder pulled her back from the edge of sleep. She felt Johnny’s chrome fingertips brush her bangs from her forehead and sighed. The cool metal felt nice against her skin. Comforting, like always.

He rubbed her arm, “Wanna go to bed?”

“It’s not even five yet,” she argued.

“So? You’re fuckin’ fallin’ asleep.” As if to prove his point, a groggy yawn broke free from her chest. “C’mon,” he stood, pulling her to her feet with him. “I’ll close the shutters, black out the bedroom. Forget about the clock, ‘kay?”

V stayed rooted in place, drawing him up short when he tried to tow her in his wake. He met her stare with a confused frown. Tightening her grip on his hand, she asked meekly, “Can you put somethin’ on TV in there and stay?”

Warmth flooded his expression. “Course. Where the fuck else would I be?” With another small tug, he coaxed her toward the bedroom.

She followed after. Johnny released her hand to flip the switches for the shutters. The tawny, late afternoon sunlight splintered into horizontal lines before slivering out into darkness as the slats closed. With the door shut at her back, the only source of illumination within the room came from the digital clock on the dresser and the floor light in the adjoining bathroom. Calm washed over her. Even the bright flare of the television turning on didn’t detract from that sensation.

This was their normal — the time of day, maybe not — but shutting out the world to put on mindless background noise and simply exist with one another was always the highlight of her day. And after the stress and tears and rubberband emotions of today, this was what she desperately needed.

V stripped down to her underwear and slid into bed, burying her face in the sheets and breathing deeply. Further weight slipped from her shoulders. In its place, she felt sleep tug at her.

Climbing in beside her in just his boxers, Johnny wedged his ‘ganic arm beneath the pillows to draw her close to his side. The volume on the television dropped to a low drone.

“Not too loud?” he asked.

“Can turn it up if you wanna,” she murmured.

It was so low she couldn’t even make out the words. Cracking an eye, she saw he had the racing channel on, subtitles rattling across the bottom of the screen.

“Nah,” he dropped a kiss to the top of her head, “fine like this.”

Wiggling closer, she settled with her ear pressed to his sternum. Beneath her, his heart thumped steady and deep. “I love you,” she whispered. The rhythm inside his ribcage kicked up a notch, and she smiled.

“Love you too, darlin’,” he said, voice low.

V had no idea how long she had been sleeping when she felt the soft press of his lips on her knuckles. She pulled a couple of hard breaths and stretched, letting out a soft whimper when her back popped. Looking up, she found him gazing at her with pure, earnest, affection in his dark eyes. The light of the TV danced across his pupils as he traced her features.

“Vaye,” he cradled her jaw in his hand. A tight breath left him. “I— shit. I’m fuckin’— I’m sorry.” His expression hardened and he scanned the ceiling before returning his attention to her. “For what I said. Didn’t mean it. I didn’t think, it just came out. Know you’d never do that shit. Know it like I know the back’a my own hand. Trust you more’n anyone else in this lifetime and the last. You didn’t need that shit…”

His floundering confirmed that it was a genuine apology. Out of the handful he had doled out in their time together, she had learned that when he really meant it, it was a jumbled mess. A fact that she found endearing. It only made her love him more, made her heart flutter warmly in her chest.

This time was no different. V turned and stretched her neck up to kiss him properly, cutting off a second wind of rambling. His hand moved into her hair, clutching her to him as their mouths slid together.

He broke away, breathlessly, hovering a fraction from her lips, “That mean you forgive me?”

Her teeth grazed his bottom lip. “I’m still mad, but I forgive you.”

She felt him smiling as he kissed her again, mumbling between them, ”Kinda like you mad.”

“Well, if the rumors about pregnancy hormones are true, you’ve got a lot of that to look forward to,” she laughed.

“Mmhm,” he hummed deep in his chest before rolling over and pulling her beneath him. His lips found her neck, “Can’t wait.”