takecourage | (no subject)

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danny

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Nearly at the end of her second trimester, Alex finally concedes that they need to do some preparing for the increasingly imminent arrival. They've picked out a bedroom to turn into the nursery and Alex has spent days staring at various swatches on the wall until she'd finally settled on a dove grey colour for the walls. It's neutral, she figures, more palatable than the pastels that the girl in the DIY store had recommended. Even if she decides that she hates it, there's not a lot she can do about it, with all of the natives in Darrow gone like they were never even there.

"How long does it take you to change into things you don't mind getting paint on, Arlington?" she calls down the hall.

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"I can call him, if you want," she says. She thinks he's overreacting, but that doesn't mean that she can't see his point. "Or, yeah, you can come. You're better with numbers than I am anyway."

"Asking if he was going to be there isn't the same as suggesting you call him," Darlington points out, perhaps a shade testily. He lets out a breath, lets his nerves go with it, focusing for a moment on a particularly stubborn corner of the wall he's painting. "I'll come. And help with the books, if you need it."

He looks over at her again, watching her thoughtfully. "You're really getting into that, aren't you? Learning how it all works from that side."

"We're friends. I'm legit allowed to call him," she says, raising her eyebrows at his tone of voice. "What's that voice for, anyway?" She nods, leaning over the paint tray to load her brush again. "Yeah, I am. Never thought I'd be able to do something like that, but here we are."

"Nothing, sorry," he says, instead of the God's sake, I don't want to fight again that almost comes out. It's too low a blow, too fresh after the last few minutes--and the irony of not wanting Alex left alone while he's happy to leave her behind for the sake of his own plans isn't lost on him--and in no way worth it. "I just wasn't trying to imply you should...impose, I guess, on him when I'd already offered to come along. All I was doing was asking."

He dips the roller again and moves closer to the window, rolling the paint on in wide, tall stripes and listening to her talk. "Here we are," he says. "I think it's...honestly, I'm happy you're giving it a shot. I think you'll be good at it, Stern."

"A little bit of that is because you don't love the idea of the mother of your child stripping for a living," says Alex. In the past, it might have been a barb, a trip-wire designed to make him stumble, but now she states it as a matter of fact. "But, yeah. I like being in charge, kind of? I didn't think I'd ever get the chance, but..." She grins. "Maybe."

"Guilty as charged," he says, but it's without defensiveness, no trace of the raised hackles that used to come up so easily when they talked about the club. He's never been as okay with it as Alex wants him to be, but he's grown into the idea, understood the importance of it for her on a level he might not have if they were still the people they'd been in New Haven.

Catching her grin as he turns to look at her, Darlington echoes it with one of his own. Alex's excitement is a palpable thing, her confidence and hope sinking warm into his chest. God, he loves her, and the thought overlays all else; even their arguments, their shifting, changing moods and the differences that will always be between them. Their Lethe bond was nothing compared to what they had now.

"Maybe," he says. "Whatever you decide, I'm in your corner. Always."

"Yeah," she says. "I know that." She hadn't always known it. For a long time, even in Darrow, it had felt like she wasn't quite good enough for him, like nothing she did could ever be enough. They're really past that now, though. "We'll figure something out," she says. They always do. "Would you...what if I did want to go back to dancing after she's born?"

"You're back to thinking you would?" he says, and though there's surprise in his tone, it's faint. "More than hypothetically, I mean." He does have to take a moment or two, thinking through the idea and weighing his own feelings, silencing the gruff sound of his grandfather's voice at the back of his mind. Eventually, he nods.

"Like we've said, I don't love the idea," he says. "And, yeah, a lot of that is down to my own hangups, but I'm also thinking about the closing shifts you used to pick up, and the doubles. And all the assholes you've ever told me about." A muscle twitches in his jaw at that last, something protective clenching tight within the center of him--even though he knows she can fend for herself, and has, and would. "But if going back would make you happy, if they can give you a schedule that works...I think you should do it."

"Not really," she says. "Just...covering all my bases, I guess. And all of those are really good points. I just...don't know if I'm going to miss it or not once it feels possible, I guess." She smiles. "You definitely wouldn't have said that a year ago."

"A year ago, you and I would be having this conversation at a much higher volume," says Darlington, and while the words and his tone are light, he doesn't try to suppress the swell of guilt he feels for that. "With more swearing."

He finishes his latest pass over the wall, then looks at Alex again. "It's hard to predict if you'll miss it or not. You'll just have to wait and see."

"And throwing things," says Alex, grinning broadly at the thought of it. She nods. "No good planning for any of it, right? We don't know what's going to happen once she's here."

"Throwing things, how could I forget," he says, deadpan until he looks at her and laughs. "My reflexes got so much work, all thanks to you and your deadly aim, Stern."

He gets a little more serious then, his grin softening to something steady and warm as he watches her sitting there, her brush moving above the baseboards. "We don't know," he agrees. "When she's here, when she's growing up...there's a lot of mystery to come. But we're ready for it. As much as we can be."

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