So, this is over a day late, but at almost 8k words, I don’t feel too badly about that. It is the third and final installment of my middle aged SoMa AU–the first two are Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town and True Love Waits.
Thanks forever to ilarual and l0chn3ss for looking over this hot mess.
Other days can be found here:
Day 1 | Day 2 |
I found a dream, that I could speak to
A dream that I can call my own
I found a thrill to press my cheek to
A thrill that I have never known.
They’d been sitting
together on the brown leather sofa, staring at the middle of her Dad’s old,
battered coffee table for at least ten minutes, unmoving, unblinking, jaws
slack. Perhaps they thought if they willed it hard enough, they could
make that other little word appear, if they willed it hard enough, their world
wouldn’t come crashing down on them because of that first little word.
There was no will strong
enough to change reality.
Maka spoke first, snapping
her mouth shut with a slight smack and letting out a long breath.
“How… did this happen?”
she said, still staring at the little stick in the middle of the table.
This seemed to jolt Soul
off of whatever planet his mind had disappeared to, because he barked out a
short, rough laugh. “Maka, you have three kids. Pretty sure you
know how these things happen.”
Maka rolled her eyes.
“I just mean–” she sighed. “Blake got cut years ago, and I
just wasn’t thinking–and then, I figured I was going through the change.
I never thought, never would have thought–”
“Okay, first off, I really,
really don’t need to know anything about Blake’s bits. And second,
you’re the one who said we should test.” In truth, Soul was as stunned as
she was, but it was easier to hide behind snark.
“To rule it out,” she
snapped. “I just never thought, at my age–”
“Well, guess my sperm is
just that potent.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, earning him an elbow
to the ribs. “Hey!”
“Just–be serious for once,
would you? It must be wrong. There’s no way. We’ll do it
again. I bought a three pack, so we’ll just–do it again.”
“Yeah, alright,” he agreed.
An hour later, they were
back on the sofa, staring down three sticks where one had been before.
The result was the same for all–one word, small and black and seemingly
innocuous. So strange, how one word could hold so much power, how one
word could turn their lives upside down. One little eight letter word.
“It didn’t change,” Maka
stated dumbly after staring at the third stick for several minutes.
“Nope,” Soul agreed.
“What–what are we gonna
do?” It was practically a whisper, and she felt 19 instead of 49.
“I have no idea,” he said
evenly. And yet–and yet–there was a small part of him that
reveled in the thought of a child together. In spite of everything he
knew it would mean, that small part was quickly growing.
“Our kids are grown,” she
“Mmm hmmm,” he agreed.
“We’re too old for a
baby–we should be pestering our kids for grandbabies not–not–”
“–having a kid young
enough to be our grand baby?” he suggested.