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Life comes at you fast. (for Eostre) - Dated to the 31st
When Peter had come running up to him, flushed and out of breath, alarm bells had not immediately started ringing.
When Peter had informed him that he should probably go see Eostre because Peter had broken her, they had. Loudly.
At least he's fairly sure he knows what it is, and it had been confirmed when Peter told him who he was going to tell next.
"You didn't break her," he had taken a second to say. "I mean... okay, maybe you did, but it's okay." Except is it? Fuck, it's two weeks early. Is that too early? At what point is too early? Are twins usually early because there's less room? Is there less room? Should he take another second to run back to the Compound and wash his hands with soap? Should he be ready to boil water? Why the fuck do you boil water, anyway? You hopefully aren't going to toss the babies into it. Like lobsters or something.
His mind is working along these faintly horrifying lines as he grits his teeth and starts to run. Running still isn't easy or pleasant and if a doctor saw him doing it he would probably be yelled at, but if there was ever a time when he truly did not give a shit...
He's so unprepared for this. He hasn't even read books. And two weeks.
Jesus fucking Christ.
"Eostre?" he calls, skidding to a stop outside her doorway and pulling the curtain aside, breathing hard. "Peter... told me..."
When Peter had informed him that he should probably go see Eostre because Peter had broken her, they had. Loudly.
At least he's fairly sure he knows what it is, and it had been confirmed when Peter told him who he was going to tell next.
"You didn't break her," he had taken a second to say. "I mean... okay, maybe you did, but it's okay." Except is it? Fuck, it's two weeks early. Is that too early? At what point is too early? Are twins usually early because there's less room? Is there less room? Should he take another second to run back to the Compound and wash his hands with soap? Should he be ready to boil water? Why the fuck do you boil water, anyway? You hopefully aren't going to toss the babies into it. Like lobsters or something.
His mind is working along these faintly horrifying lines as he grits his teeth and starts to run. Running still isn't easy or pleasant and if a doctor saw him doing it he would probably be yelled at, but if there was ever a time when he truly did not give a shit...
He's so unprepared for this. He hasn't even read books. And two weeks.
Jesus fucking Christ.
"Eostre?" he calls, skidding to a stop outside her doorway and pulling the curtain aside, breathing hard. "Peter... told me..."
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"You can teach the girls to throw."
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They should know how to fight. Just in case.
"And Chris and Jim will teach them to curl."
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"I'm scared, Mike. What if..."
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"It'll be fine. And... and if it's not, Lily'll be here and she'll know what to do." When he had met her briefly she had seemed utterly competent, and right now that's what he's clinging to.
Because he doesn't feel even in the same country as competent right now.
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"It'll be fine," she repeated back.
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"Any minute now. She'll be here."
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"Talk," she forced out, through gritted teeth. "Please."
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"Baseball was gonna get me into college," he says, picking up the thread from earlier as the only coherent thing he can think of at the moment. He tightens his arm around her shoulders, hand massaging her skin. "You asked how good I was? I was good enough that scouts came to see me. I was gonna get a scholarship. But then I had to stop playing. So I never went. Couldn't pay for it."
And it didn't matter in the end, anyway. Nothing else really matters. He's here now, and nothing even seems like it exists outside of this.
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"I didn't know..." She lost her words in a gasp, her head falling back against his shoulder. "I didn't know that. So you were really...oh, fuck, Mike...you were really good."
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Like be here.
"Are you..." he starts, feeling more and more frantic and increasingly unable to hide it. "Are you okay? I mean... is it normal for it to hurt like that?"
Stupid question, and it probably is, but he can't ignore the dark possibilities dancing around in the back of his mind.
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"Fuck, Mike. Fuck."
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"How're we doing?"
She'd bought a blanket and a bowl of water with her.
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"I think she's okay," he says. "I don't know, though. Never done this before."
He never thought he would feel so young and helpless again, not in this body.
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"You can go now, love. Just...don't go far, okay?"
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And then he hears her, and his focus snaps back.
"No, I can't," he says. "I'm not goin' anywhere."
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She swallowed and nodded.
"I was scared and I needed you and you came and now I'll be okay."
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"I understand that," he says, keeping his voice calm with a huge effort. "And I know it's not what you're used to. But I need to be here, and I'm not leaving." He moves back a little on the bed, but his body language is that of someone who is utterly determined. "I'm just not."
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She knew how things were supposed to be. She understood tht.
She also knew that nobody made her feel as safe as Mike did.
"Tell me they can have your name."
She was dimly aware of LIly looking up, eyebrow arched.
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It's only a matter of time now before he's holding his daughters in his arms.
"Okay," he says softly, taking her hand again, squeezing.
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She didn't really want him to go anywhere. She never really wanted him out of her sight if she could help it.
"Okay, Lily...what do I do?"
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"S'gonna be a long one, eh?"
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And God, he hopes it won't be a long one.
But somehow he doesn't think any of them are that lucky.