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So this weekend I spent lots of time watching things I had never seen before (Invisible Man, Some Like it Red, even an episode of Jake 2.0) but only one had me scribbling fic on the plane ride home. With thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
brooklinegirl for super-speedy beta, 1500 words of G-rated Flower & Garnet post-movie genfic:
It was a tight fit in the truck, with Ed and Garnet and Flower and Rose in her car seat, but they managed it. Flower insisted on sitting next to the baby, so Ed drove with Garnet squished against his right arm.
No one spoke, all the way to Barb’s. Ed had told Flower at the hospital that she and Rose could come home, but she’d said, “We are going home. To our place.”
Ed hadn’t been able to think of anything to say to that.
Flower carried Rose downstairs herself, but she gave Garnet the baby bag to carry. Ed got the car seat unbuckled and brought it down last. Flower’s little place looked different with the lights on, with Flower sitting on one end of the battered old couch, holding Rose in her lap. Garnet was standing by her, looking at the baby, and Ed set the car seat down near the foot of the stairs and stood watching them, his hands in his pockets.
Flower looked right up at him and said, “You can stay a little if you like. Sit down.” Garnet sat down right away, in the middle seat on the couch, next to Flower, so Ed took the other end seat. He picked up the remote and turned on the TV, quickly switching off the birthing video. CBC was the only station coming in clear, so he settled on that.
Ed stared at the TV blankly, not taking in the action on the screen, the sounds not registering in his ears. He couldn’t remember when he’d slept last. His tiredness and the last remnants of his worry for Flower, and then for Garnet, and the weight of the now-unloaded gun that waited in the truck’s glove box, all dragged at him, pressing him down into the couch.
He blinked when Rose began to fuss, and glanced over just in time to see Flower opening her shirt. He looked away again quickly, swallowing hard. He should leave, this wasn’t his place. He looked over again, at Garnet this time, and saw him watching his sister. “Hey,” he said, and reached out to catch Garnet by the chin and turn his head toward the TV. “Don’t.”
Garnet shook off his hand, and Ed dropped it and went back to watching TV himself, though he was now aware of the small sounds of a baby drinking. It had been a long time since he’d heard that.
“Flower,” Garnet said quietly, “Could I have some milk?”
Ed glanced over again just as Flower said, “Sure, Garnet. There’s some upstairs in the fridge, you know where it is.”
The curve of her breast was mirrored by the curve of the baby’s cheek, and Ed forced himself to look away, down at Garnet, who was still sitting on the couch.
Garnet looked up at him and said, “Could I have some milk?”
Ed frowned. “Yeah, go ahead. Your sister said you could.”
Garnet still didn’t get up. He scrunched down smaller on the couch, hugging himself as he looked up at Ed. Ed looked over at Flower, but she was looking down at Rose, her hair hiding her face from him. No help. Ed looked back down at Garnet, and Garnet was still just looking up at him, unblinking, the same as he had when Ed found him in the crib.
“Okay,” Ed said, “Fine.” He stood up and walked up the stairs, up into Barb’s familiar house, her familiar kitchen. He opened a cupboard, looking for a glass, and found half a shelf filled with bottles and formula. For a moment he stared at them, blinking, and the exhaustion that weighed him down was just like the feeling that had slowed his steps when he got up in the middle of the night to make bottles for Garnet. He reached up and ran his finger down the side of a bottle, but it wasn’t the same. These were for Rose, and obviously unneeded. Ed grabbed a glass and shut the cupboard, turning to the fridge.
There was milk right there, just like Flower had said. He pulled it out and shut the door, and Barb was standing there, watching him. Ed wanted to apologize, to ask if it was all right to take the milk, but Barb just stood there with an expression he couldn’t read, and he turned away, unscrewing the cap.
“Is that for Flower?”
Ed looked back. Barb hadn’t moved, but something in her face had softened. He looked down. “No,” he said to the counter. “Garnet wanted some.”
“Ah,” Barb said, and he felt her move closer, saw her open the fridge again in the corner of his eye. “Garnet likes chocolate,” Barb said, holding out a different carton to him. Ed looked at the carton. There had always been one like that in the fridge until Flower moved away, and then there hadn’t. He hadn’t known why.
“Oh,” he said, taking it from her hand and handing her the regular milk, which she put back. “Thanks.” He unscrewed the cap and carefully poured the glass two-thirds full, just the way Flower had always poured milk for Garnet. When he put the milk back, Barb was still standing there, still watching him.
He hadn’t been in her kitchen since they’d fought. She’d said he didn’t know what Garnet knew; hell, he didn’t even know what Garnet drank. “You were right,” Ed said to the glass of chocolate milk. “He knew. So I guess there was no point.”
Barb didn’t say anything, but when he looked up, she stepped closer, and leaned up to kiss him on the mouth. He kissed back, stepping into the familiar contact, and Barb pulled away. “You’d better go,” she said quietly. “Garnet will want his milk.”
Ed nodded, and went back down to the basement. Flower was still feeding Rose, and Garnet was watching again. “Hey,” Ed said, holding the glass out to Garnet, “here. I got your chocolate milk for you.”
Garnet looked up at him but didn’t reach out to take the glass. Ed held it closer, but Garnet just pressed himself further into the couch, looking up at Ed with his blue eyes, so unlike Flower’s. Flower had her mother’s eyes. Ed looked away. Flower still had her head down, watching the baby. Ed glanced around the room, and spotted the crib where he’d found Garnet. When he looked down again, Garnet was back to watching Flower, and Ed sighed.
He set down the glass of milk on the end table, a little harder than he meant to. From the corner of his eye, he saw Flower and Garnet’s heads turn toward the sound. A little chocolate milk sloshed onto his finger, and he licked it off and then reached for Garnet.
Garnet flinched from the touch, going almost rigid, not at all like the limp weight he’d been when Ed picked him up the day before. “It’s okay,” Ed said quietly, sliding one arm behind Garnet’s shoulders and one under his knees. As he lifted the boy into his arms, still stiff, still staring up at him, Ed said, “Take it easy, flutter-by.”
He’d said it a hundred times while his wife was pregnant with Garnet, when the kicking under his hand turned frantic and made her gasp, keeping her awake at night, but he’d never said it since. Garnet blinked, and Ed felt him relax, as though he remembered those whispered words. Ed sat down again on the couch with Garnet in his arms, settling the boy on his lap, keeping his arm curled around Garnet’s shoulders as though he couldn’t sit up on his own. He reached across with his other arm to get the glass of milk, his body curling around Garnet’s as he did.
When he sat back, Garnet’s head leaned heavily against his shoulder, and Ed held the glass of milk to his mouth and tipped it so he could drink.
When Flower was a baby, he’d fed her this way once or twice, holding her on his lap, a bottle in his free hand, his wife sitting nearby to make sure he did it right. Now there was just Flower at the other end of the couch, busy feeding her own baby, and Garnet, heavy and warm in his lap. He remembered all the nights he’d woken to Garnet’s crying, staggered into the kitchen to make a bottle and then stood in the nursery, leaning over his crib, holding the bottle while he drank. He hadn’t thought he could bear the weight, as weary as he was. He’d been afraid he’d drop the baby if he picked him up, if he tried to hold him and the bottle at the same time. Garnet was heavier now, but maybe not so breakable.
Ed bent his head, so that his mouth was against Garnet’s hair, and whispered, “Sorry. Should’ve done this before.”
Garnet just burrowed closer, and Ed pressed his lips to the crown of Garnet’s head, long since hardened with bone, and listened to the sound of his son drinking.
brooklinegirl for super-speedy beta, 1500 words of G-rated Flower & Garnet post-movie genfic: It was a tight fit in the truck, with Ed and Garnet and Flower and Rose in her car seat, but they managed it. Flower insisted on sitting next to the baby, so Ed drove with Garnet squished against his right arm.
No one spoke, all the way to Barb’s. Ed had told Flower at the hospital that she and Rose could come home, but she’d said, “We are going home. To our place.”
Ed hadn’t been able to think of anything to say to that.
Flower carried Rose downstairs herself, but she gave Garnet the baby bag to carry. Ed got the car seat unbuckled and brought it down last. Flower’s little place looked different with the lights on, with Flower sitting on one end of the battered old couch, holding Rose in her lap. Garnet was standing by her, looking at the baby, and Ed set the car seat down near the foot of the stairs and stood watching them, his hands in his pockets.
Flower looked right up at him and said, “You can stay a little if you like. Sit down.” Garnet sat down right away, in the middle seat on the couch, next to Flower, so Ed took the other end seat. He picked up the remote and turned on the TV, quickly switching off the birthing video. CBC was the only station coming in clear, so he settled on that.
Ed stared at the TV blankly, not taking in the action on the screen, the sounds not registering in his ears. He couldn’t remember when he’d slept last. His tiredness and the last remnants of his worry for Flower, and then for Garnet, and the weight of the now-unloaded gun that waited in the truck’s glove box, all dragged at him, pressing him down into the couch.
He blinked when Rose began to fuss, and glanced over just in time to see Flower opening her shirt. He looked away again quickly, swallowing hard. He should leave, this wasn’t his place. He looked over again, at Garnet this time, and saw him watching his sister. “Hey,” he said, and reached out to catch Garnet by the chin and turn his head toward the TV. “Don’t.”
Garnet shook off his hand, and Ed dropped it and went back to watching TV himself, though he was now aware of the small sounds of a baby drinking. It had been a long time since he’d heard that.
“Flower,” Garnet said quietly, “Could I have some milk?”
Ed glanced over again just as Flower said, “Sure, Garnet. There’s some upstairs in the fridge, you know where it is.”
The curve of her breast was mirrored by the curve of the baby’s cheek, and Ed forced himself to look away, down at Garnet, who was still sitting on the couch.
Garnet looked up at him and said, “Could I have some milk?”
Ed frowned. “Yeah, go ahead. Your sister said you could.”
Garnet still didn’t get up. He scrunched down smaller on the couch, hugging himself as he looked up at Ed. Ed looked over at Flower, but she was looking down at Rose, her hair hiding her face from him. No help. Ed looked back down at Garnet, and Garnet was still just looking up at him, unblinking, the same as he had when Ed found him in the crib.
“Okay,” Ed said, “Fine.” He stood up and walked up the stairs, up into Barb’s familiar house, her familiar kitchen. He opened a cupboard, looking for a glass, and found half a shelf filled with bottles and formula. For a moment he stared at them, blinking, and the exhaustion that weighed him down was just like the feeling that had slowed his steps when he got up in the middle of the night to make bottles for Garnet. He reached up and ran his finger down the side of a bottle, but it wasn’t the same. These were for Rose, and obviously unneeded. Ed grabbed a glass and shut the cupboard, turning to the fridge.
There was milk right there, just like Flower had said. He pulled it out and shut the door, and Barb was standing there, watching him. Ed wanted to apologize, to ask if it was all right to take the milk, but Barb just stood there with an expression he couldn’t read, and he turned away, unscrewing the cap.
“Is that for Flower?”
Ed looked back. Barb hadn’t moved, but something in her face had softened. He looked down. “No,” he said to the counter. “Garnet wanted some.”
“Ah,” Barb said, and he felt her move closer, saw her open the fridge again in the corner of his eye. “Garnet likes chocolate,” Barb said, holding out a different carton to him. Ed looked at the carton. There had always been one like that in the fridge until Flower moved away, and then there hadn’t. He hadn’t known why.
“Oh,” he said, taking it from her hand and handing her the regular milk, which she put back. “Thanks.” He unscrewed the cap and carefully poured the glass two-thirds full, just the way Flower had always poured milk for Garnet. When he put the milk back, Barb was still standing there, still watching him.
He hadn’t been in her kitchen since they’d fought. She’d said he didn’t know what Garnet knew; hell, he didn’t even know what Garnet drank. “You were right,” Ed said to the glass of chocolate milk. “He knew. So I guess there was no point.”
Barb didn’t say anything, but when he looked up, she stepped closer, and leaned up to kiss him on the mouth. He kissed back, stepping into the familiar contact, and Barb pulled away. “You’d better go,” she said quietly. “Garnet will want his milk.”
Ed nodded, and went back down to the basement. Flower was still feeding Rose, and Garnet was watching again. “Hey,” Ed said, holding the glass out to Garnet, “here. I got your chocolate milk for you.”
Garnet looked up at him but didn’t reach out to take the glass. Ed held it closer, but Garnet just pressed himself further into the couch, looking up at Ed with his blue eyes, so unlike Flower’s. Flower had her mother’s eyes. Ed looked away. Flower still had her head down, watching the baby. Ed glanced around the room, and spotted the crib where he’d found Garnet. When he looked down again, Garnet was back to watching Flower, and Ed sighed.
He set down the glass of milk on the end table, a little harder than he meant to. From the corner of his eye, he saw Flower and Garnet’s heads turn toward the sound. A little chocolate milk sloshed onto his finger, and he licked it off and then reached for Garnet.
Garnet flinched from the touch, going almost rigid, not at all like the limp weight he’d been when Ed picked him up the day before. “It’s okay,” Ed said quietly, sliding one arm behind Garnet’s shoulders and one under his knees. As he lifted the boy into his arms, still stiff, still staring up at him, Ed said, “Take it easy, flutter-by.”
He’d said it a hundred times while his wife was pregnant with Garnet, when the kicking under his hand turned frantic and made her gasp, keeping her awake at night, but he’d never said it since. Garnet blinked, and Ed felt him relax, as though he remembered those whispered words. Ed sat down again on the couch with Garnet in his arms, settling the boy on his lap, keeping his arm curled around Garnet’s shoulders as though he couldn’t sit up on his own. He reached across with his other arm to get the glass of milk, his body curling around Garnet’s as he did.
When he sat back, Garnet’s head leaned heavily against his shoulder, and Ed held the glass of milk to his mouth and tipped it so he could drink.
When Flower was a baby, he’d fed her this way once or twice, holding her on his lap, a bottle in his free hand, his wife sitting nearby to make sure he did it right. Now there was just Flower at the other end of the couch, busy feeding her own baby, and Garnet, heavy and warm in his lap. He remembered all the nights he’d woken to Garnet’s crying, staggered into the kitchen to make a bottle and then stood in the nursery, leaning over his crib, holding the bottle while he drank. He hadn’t thought he could bear the weight, as weary as he was. He’d been afraid he’d drop the baby if he picked him up, if he tried to hold him and the bottle at the same time. Garnet was heavier now, but maybe not so breakable.
Ed bent his head, so that his mouth was against Garnet’s hair, and whispered, “Sorry. Should’ve done this before.”
Garnet just burrowed closer, and Ed pressed his lips to the crown of Garnet’s head, long since hardened with bone, and listened to the sound of his son drinking.