In honor of Epiphany, and my anniversary, and all sorts of happy things, I'm going to go ahead and post a fic that's been sitting on my computer since mid-November. I know, I know--I'm a slowpoke! ^_^;; But I _am_ working on two or three longish things, really I am, so there will be more along shortly. In the meantime, here's this:
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Title: More Than Enough
Author: Lilias (Liliascrescens@cs.com)
Archive: GW Addiction - http://www.gwaddiction.com
Ryoko-meimei, Demeter, and Becky Marie are also welcome to it.
Category: Drama
Pairing: 1+2+R
What to expect: Shounen-ai, hetero-ai, sap.
Disclaimer: The boys and the girl belong to Bandai, Sunrise, and the Sotsu Agency, and I intend no infringement upon their rights. Notes: Yet another installment in the the 'Complicated' saga, this comes right before "Last of the Summer's Flowers." (If you haven't been riding that fic-train, all you really need to know is that we're talking about a long-standing relationship, and that this fic is set waaaay after EW.) It may also help to know in advance that considerable time passes between the sections of this story, though that's probably clear from context.
This story was inspired by one of my mother's favorite songs--so it's dedicated to my parents, who showed me what true love looks like. ^_^ Lyrics appear at end of fic; they're _so_ sweet that we'd all die of sugar shock if I put them between the fic-sections....
/ denotes thoughts; _ denotes italics/emphasis
It was ridiculous. He was tired, exhausted, beat, plumb tuckered out, but he couldn't sleep. His mind kept circling back to tomorrow's appointment--or was it already today's?
Duo craned his neck to look at the clock, grimacing at its report: 3:22 am. Two hours until sunrise, and at least three before the alarm would sound. Three more hours of staring at the ceiling. Great. He punched his pillow, turning it over and around in search of a cool spot before flopping back down with grim determination.
It wasn't really working, and it didn't help that a cold trickle of anxiety made its way back into the pit of his stomach just when he had almost achieved a doze. The trickle turned into a glacial flood as soon as he let himself think about what morning would bring, until he was numb from collisions with interior icebergs. The appointment was at eight-thirty: one hour to plead their case with the adoption coordinator, one hour to give the best, most sincere performance of his life. He swallowed, trying one more time to redirect his mind to something soothing.
/Okay--clear the mind, think of nothing but sleep. Beautiful, wonderful sleep..../
Not a chance.
/Dammit./
Time for more extreme measures. Propping himself on one elbow, Duo peered hopefully into the grey stillness. "Hey, guys--you awake?"
They might have been fallen statuary, so still was their repose: Heero lay flat on his back, hands folded across his stomach like a figure from a knight's tomb; Relena was curled against his side with one palm under her cheek.
He tried again. "Guys?"
Relena shifted in her sleep, wrinkling her nose and clearing her throat before nestling more firmly into Heero's shoulder; only the rise and fall of Heero's chest proved he wasn't masonry.
"_I'm_ awake," Duo muttered, leaning his head on his hand with an aggrieved sigh. "Guess I'm the only one scared enough for insomnia."
His envious gaze lingered on their sleeping forms, softening as he acknowledged the poetry in the shadowed angles and moonlit curves of cheek and throat, shoulder and wrist. Pale as alabaster in the hesitant light, their faces were solemn and secret, as if their dreams demanded concentration. So vulnerable, so still--so unlike the faces they showed to the world. These moments before dawn were usually his favorite time, precisely because of this rare chance to observe them, unobserved; even this morning's nagging worry couldn't stop the familiar upwelling of happiness at having them all to himself.
Temporarily distracted from his panic, Duo dropped back onto his pillow with a sigh. "Maybe it'll all work out," he pondered aloud, folding his arms behind his head as he stared fixedly at the ceiling. "It's weird--it's all gone pretty well so far, I guess, but it still feels like we're on a tightrope." The sinking feeling was back, along with the chill; Duo didn't even notice as his whisper gained in volume. "I mean, they were fine with the idea of us, on the phone, but what happens when we're right there in person, and they're looking at us, _judging_ us, and what they're seeing isn't even _us_, but some kind of kinky sideshow act--"
"Duo."
He rolled over, startled and apologetic, to find Heero watching him with half-lidded eyes.
"It'll be all right," Heero said quietly, his sleep-roughened voice like crumpled velvet.
Giddy with relief at having someone else awake, Duo let his words tumble over themselves. "What if I say something stupid and screw it up? What if they ask about my parents, and I can't _tell_ them anything, because--"
Heero blinked at him for a moment, then eased Relena's head from his shoulder, shifting to make room between them. "Come here."
Duo climbed gingerly over him, careful with the placement of hands and knees until he reached the warm center of the bed. Burying his face against the smooth warmth of Heero's chest, Duo concentrated on slowing his breathing to match the steady heartbeat under his cheek. Relena, still asleep, made a muffled sound of protest at the change in position before scooting to curl against Duo's back. Duo closed his eyes with a reluctantly blissful sigh as she slid one arm cozily around his waist.
"It'll be all right," Heero said again, freeing one hand enough to stroke Duo's hair. "Relena's good at handling things like this. And anyway, if they want to know whether we'll be good parents, all they have to do is ask Gabriel."
Duo snickered at the idea of their small son on the witness stand. "Good plan. I don't think he knows enough words yet to incriminate us."
Heero snorted. "Go to sleep, Duo."
"Okay, okay." Surrounded by their warmth, he was already dozing off. "Love you, y'know."
"I know. Now sleep."
Heero let the dishwater run out of the sink, drying his hands with an air of satisfaction. He only got to do the dishes every third day--not often enough to tire of the task, which he found surprisingly enjoyable. Making things clean, arranging them tidily in drawers and cabinets, spoke to a deep need for order that Heero recognized as one of his defining traits; chaos was fine, especially when it presented itself in the form of Duo, but by and large Heero preferred his glassware streak-free, and his cooking pans nested with the smaller ones _inside_ the larger.
Turning off the kitchen lights, he went in search of chaos--or, perhaps, Relena. Neither of them happened to be in the living room, so he prowled up the stairs to check the second floor.
Muffled thumping and scraping sounds from a small room at the head of the stairs drew his attention. When he investigated, he found Relena busy repainting what had been a small sitting room; it was being transformed into a nursery for the family's newest member, the space sacrificed so that Gabriel could retain possession of his familiar room.
Everything had gone as smoothly as he had hoped it might; the child-services worker assigned to their file had assessed the stability of their unorthodox relationship with a barrage of tough questions, but seemed satisfied with their answers. And she had been impressed, not horrified, by Duo's halting explanation of why he wanted so much to adopt a child. "Preferably the one nobody else wants," he had added in a self-consciously defiant tone, and round-faced Mrs. Parrish had gravely made a note of his request.
Now, several months and several reams of paperwork later, they were in the last stages of waiting: a perfect time to invest in several gallons of yellow paint. (At least, it _looked_ like yellow; the label, with rather higher pretensions, identified it as 'Cream of Daffodil.')
Heero stopped where he could watch Relena from just outside her peripheral vision. She was perched on a stepladder, bracing herself with one hand while she wielded a paint-roller with the other. Speckles of yellow paint dotted her arms, the ragged overalls she'd borrowed from Duo, even her upturned face.
While he watched, Relena paused to inspect her progress, rubbing her nose thoughtfully with the back of one hand and leaving an even larger yellow smear. Then she went back to work, frowning intently as she tried to keep the roller's strokes straight and even.
It would have been more efficient to hire a professional for this job, Heero reflected, but she had been adamant about doing it herself; Relena took a deep delight in these exercises of autonomy, especially since independence itself was still a refreshingly new experience. And the look of determined exhilaration on her face, even while accomplishing nothing more earth-shattering than keeping yellow semi-gloss off the baseboards, was well worth the damage she was doing to those tennis shoes.
"Are you going to keep lurking out there, or do you want a brush?" He looked up from her spattered sneakers to find Relena aiming a sly smile over her shoulder.
"Doesn't look like you need help," he answered smoothly, not even bothering to conceal the warm appreciation in his gaze. Relena was lovely in her ball gowns, Heero knew, and there was an efficient elegance about her business suits that he would always find irresistible--but this rumpled, humming, utterly ordinary version of his wife was the one guaranteed to make his pulse suspiciously erratic.
"It is looking all right, isn't it?" Hiding a proud little smile, she pushed her bangs out of her eyes with a yellow-daubed hand. "Well, if you want real entertainment, I think you can still catch story time."
"Aa. Sounds interesting." Her soft laughter followed him down the hall to Gabriel's room, where warm lamplight spilled into the corridor. When Heero looked around the door, he found Duo helping a freshly-washed Gabriel put away the day's toys.
"I don't like the baby," Gabriel was saying.
"What's not to like?" Duo asked, sorting through a heap of picture books in search of a bedtime story. "It'll be cute, and small, and really, really noisy--wait, I'm supposed to be listing good things, right?"
"_Dad_," Gabriel said reproachfully. When Duo obediently hushed, his son continued, "It'll eat everything. All the cookies, even the one Mama made just for _me_, with the sprinkles. Everything. And there won't be enough for me." Tears pooled in his serious blue eyes, and he scrubbed angrily at them with the back of one small fist.
"Oh, hey." Duo abandoned the books to sit on the floor, pulling Gabriel onto his lap. "Listen to me with both of your ears, Gabe. You listening?"
Gabriel nodded, hanging on to Duo's shirt with both hands.
"Good. Now. There will _always_ be enough for you. I promise." Duo's face was set and serious over Gabriel's golden head, staring down the past; while Heero watched, he closed his eyes and pressed a fierce kiss against his son's bath-dampened hair. Then he took a deep breath, continuing cheerfully, "Anybody eats your cookies, you come and tell me and we'll get Mama to make some more, okay?"
"Okay." Gabriel still sounded doubtful.
"Hey, do I ever lie?" Duo lifted Gabriel up until they were eye to eye.
"Nope," Gabriel conceded, reciting: "Lying isn't worth the trouble."
"Got that right." His father ruffled his hair. "Now. Which story?"
"The mountain and the bird," Gabriel announced after some thought.
Duo retrieved the book while Gabriel climbed under the covers. "Beginning or middle?"
"Beginning." Gabriel folded his hands on top of the blanket and waited.
Duo settled down on the floor next to the bed, holding the book where Gabriel could see the pictures. "'There once was a mountain made of bare stone. It stood alone in the middle of a desert plain. No plant grew on its hard slopes, nor could any animal, bird or insect live there.'"
Heero smiled silently in the darkness of the hall. He knew this story well--it was one of Gabriel's favorites, and was in demand at least once a week.
Duo looked up, catching sight of Heero in the corridor, and smiled as he continued to read: "'The sun warmed the mountain and the wind chilled it, but the only touch the mountain knew was the touch of rain or snow. There was nothing more to feel.'"
/Not any more,/ Heero thought in a rush of warmth. /Not since all of you./
And soon there would be another; already their home was expanding, rearranging itself in welcome. It was an interesting phenomenon, that love always seemed to deepen, to widen, when it might be expected to spread itself thin. It made no geometric sense, but he had come to accept that emotions had their own paradoxical laws of physics; how else could it be that a crowded heart had more room inside than an empty one?
It was almost time. She had been listening for the sound of tires on the drive all morning, checking her watch compulsively as if that would make time flow more quickly. Even now, with a speech to draft, three novels waiting to be read, and a brilliant adaptation of 'Top Girls' playing on the arts channel, she couldn't sit still long enough to concentrate on anything.
Maybe just one more look around the baby's room? Stealing a quick glance down the hallway to make sure no one was there to see her creep into the nursery for the billionth time, Relena turned the knob and slipped inside.
It had turned out all right after all, she thought proudly, admiring the way the soft yellow walls invited the sunlight in to dance. Everything seemed to be in place: crib, dresser, rocking chair, bookshelf. She moved dreamily about the room, looking at the bright alphabet prints on the wall, running a finger along the polished back of the rocking chair, lifting a fluffy crib blanket to her cheek.
Downstairs, the front door banged; Relena jumped guiltily, dropping the blanket.
Quick steps thudded on the stairs, stopping halfway up. "Heero? Hey, Lena? They're here! Come on, come on!"
She took one last look around the sunny room, both hands pressed against her chest to cope with the weight of so much joy.
And then she was running down the stairs, almost colliding with Heero and Gabriel in the foyer. Fending them all off with an extended arm, Duo held the door open for Mrs. Parrish, and for the tiny, blanket-wrapped bundle in her arms.
"Well, here she is." Handing her carry-all to Heero with a nod of thanks, Mrs. Parrish transferred her other, more fragile burden to Relena's waiting arms.
"Hello," Relena said quietly, looking into the solemn eyes beneath the pink knitted cap. "Hello, Astrid. I'm so glad you could come to stay."
"Gabriel wants to see," Duo insisted, hoisting the toddler as an excuse to crowd closer.
Heero put one arm around his shoulder, reaching out with the other hand to touch the very end of Astrid's snub nose. "She looks like you," he told Relena. "Hardly any nose."
"Yes, well--perhaps she'll grow one eventually. I'm afraid there's no hope for me."
"Her medications are in that blue bag," Mrs. Parrish was telling Duo. "And there's a timetable for dosing, and a calendar of her doctors' appointments in there too."
"We can't thank you enough," Duo assured her, scooping the flustered woman into a one-armed hug while Gabriel hung on for dear life.
"All right, all right--everybody keep smiling." Straightening her sweater, Mrs. Parrish pawed through her shoulder bag for a camera. "Hold still--"
They looked up in time to blink at the flash--except for Gabriel, who was occupied in peeling back Astrid's cap to see if she was bald _all over_ her head.
"I like to keep pictures of all my families," Mrs. Parrish explained, squinting at the instant print before shaking it briskly.
"Take another one," Relena begged impulsively. "For us. Please?"
"I'd be happy to," Mrs. Parrish replied. "You might want to come out on the porch, though. More light out here."
After some negotiation--it proved to be impossible to get five people through the door at once--they obediently rearranged themselves on the sunny front step.
"Guess I don't need to tell you to smile, do I?" Mrs. Parrish chuckled, taking aim again. "Well, except for the missus. I don't suppose young men carry handkerchiefs in this day and age--?"
Relena gave a watery laugh, letting Gabriel swipe at her eyes with the corner of Astrid's blanket. "I'll be fine. It's just--I'm so--"
"Mama's leaking," Gabriel observed.
"Sometimes there isn't enough room inside," Duo explained just as solemnly. "And the feelings sort of run over."
Gabriel nodded. He knew about spilling; it was hard to carry a cup that was full to the brim, and almost impossible to drink from it. His small, square face was set in earnest concentration for a moment, then cleared into a sunny smile.
"Here, Mama." He leaned forward in Duo's grasp, stretching until he could grip Relena and Astrid with both arms. "If I help hold, maybe you won't spill?"
Relena couldn't answer, burying her face in Gabriel's hair with a muted sob.
Over their heads, Duo laughed shakily. "Good one, Gabe. Now _everybody's_ leaking."
-end-
Here are those lyrics--the song is "My Cup Runneth Over," from the 1966 musical 'I Do, I Do' (words by Tom Jones, music by Harvey Schmidt; copyright held by RCA Music):
Sometimes in the morning, when shadows are deep
I lie here beside you just watching you sleep
And sometimes I whisper what I'm thinking of
My cup runneth over with loveSometimes in the evening, when you do not see
I study the small things you do constantly
I memorize moments that I'm fondest of
My cup runneth over with loveIn only a moment we both will be old
We won't even notice the world turning cold
And so in this moment, with sunlight above
My cup runneth over with love
The book Duo reads to Gabriel is a real one: _The Mountain That Loved a Bird_, by Alice McLerran, with pictures by Eric Carle (NY: Aladdin Paperbacks/Simon & Schuster, 1985). It made me weep like a baby in the children's section of the book store, so I had to share it. ^__^
(:./lilias/more)
