Carrot Cake 30, Coffee 30: Fertility
Title: Fertility
Main Story: In The Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: Carrot cake 30 (sleep), coffee 30 (moon).
Word Count: 1360
Rating: PG
Summary: Clara and Aaron discuss children. At 2:30 AM.
Notes: I am a terrible, terrible character mommy, because I laughed my butt off at Aaron's pain. Undignified snorting noises were involved. So I wrote him some fluff to make up for being a terrible character mommy.
I'm sorry, Aaron. Your pain is just so funny.
The moon was shining directly on Clara's face. If she had felt the tiniest bit sleepy, she might have been annoyed. Since she wasn't, she was more grateful for the company than anything else.
Half-moon tonight. She'd be starting her period in a couple of days. She'd been lucky, as far as menstruation went; regular periods from early on, as predictable as the moon, with no charming surprises like cramps, or the extreme sensitivity to smells her mother had suffered. Conception would be easy, for her.
Would have been easy, that is. As it was, birth control wasn't really an issue.
Clara wondered what her mother would have thought of all this. If Lynne Hawkins had been told that her only daughter had shared a bed with a man for the past thirteen months without once doing more than sleeping, she probably wouldn't have believed it. She'd been so vibrantly sexual herself. Maybe she wouldn't even have believed that Clara loved Aaron and knew he loved her.
She certainly would have been disappointed that there would be no grandchildren. Clara squeezed her eyes shut, felt moisture leak onto her cheeks.
Maybe she ought to get up and close the curtains anyway. This line of thought was getting her nowhere.
"Clara?" Aaron shifted behind her, voice thick with sleep but not annoyed. "What are you thinking about?"
She smeared a hand across her eyes quickly, wiping away that treacherous moisture. He was lying behind her; he couldn't have seen. "Nothing," she said, keeping her voice light and steady. "You have to be up early tomorrow. Why aren't you asleep?"
"Why aren't you?" he countered, then answered his own question. "Because you're thinking about something, and you're thinking so hard that it's keeping me up too. What's up?"
"I'm just...." She trailed off, then said, "I'm having trouble with some aspects of asexuality, that's all."
Aaron sat up at that, and leaned over her to get a good look at her face. Clara stifled a half-hysterical giggle when his face came into view, upside down. "Clara, please don't tell me you're questioning your sexuality now of all times."
"So what if I was?" she asked, then relented when he scowled. "No, it's not that. I'm still perfectly happy not having sex ever."
"Okay, good." He kissed her nose, which required some contortion and compression, then settled back down behind her and tucked his arm over her ribs. "So what did you actually mean?"
She loved this man. Hell, she was going to marry him, in... let's see, three months, two weeks, four days and... call it twelve hours, now. This needed saying, if they were ever going to have a reasonable relationship.
"Clara?"
That didn’t make it any easier.
"I want children," she whispered, and scrubbed her hand across her eyes again. "I just... I want a baby, and that's never going to happen."
Behind her, Aaron was silent.
She should not have brought this up. She should have just kept it to herself. It wasn't like this was a new dilemma or anything. All her life she'd wanted to be a mother, more and more seriously as she grew up, but the thought of sex horrified her. She still remembered crying in her mother's arms after the first day of sex ed, after she'd learned just what she'd have to do to have a baby of her own.
She'd been so glad when she met Aaron, so glad, because she loved him so much and he was asexual just like her, and she'd never have to do that to keep him; she'd never lose him like she'd lost Kevin.
But she'd never have a baby either. And oh, oh, she wanted one.
Why the hell wouldn't Aaron say something?
"I have to wonder," Aaron said, as if in response to that thought, "if five hours before I have to get up for work is really the best time to start a discussion as vital to marriage as one about children."
Clara was fairly sure that if she responded to that, she'd cry. So she elbowed him in the ribs instead.
"Hey," he said, mildly. "I'm not sure I deserved that."
"Maybe not," she said, "but please say something more relevant, because I think I might cry if you don't."
"Okay," he said, and tightened his arm around her, once. "Here's something. I do want children, Clara. I want to be a father. And I don't know about 'never going to happen,' unless there's something you're not telling me. There's ways we could have them, without having to resort to sex. I mean, my sister and Gina, they were talking about maybe getting in-vitro with a sperm donor."
She thought about that for a moment. "I'm not sure I want to see Ivy with children."
"Hey now," Aaron said, but there was a grin in his voice. "She's my sister. I'm the only one who gets to knock her prospective parental skills."
Clara ignored this. "Besides, isn't in-vitro really expensive? Ivy makes pretty good money and Gina has great insurance, but you and I, I don't know if we could afford that."
"We don't have to, necessarily," he said. "We could always go turkey-baster."
For some reason, that sent Clara into a fit of giggles."Do I look like a turkey?"
"Prettiest turkey I ever saw," Aaron deadpanned. She jerked her elbow back again. "Ow, Clara, that was a compliment."
"Still the wrong thing to say."
"There's always adoption." She started to object, but he kept talking. "Of course, I gather you were talking about children that are genetically ours."
"Yeah," she said, and was conscious of guilt. "It's not because I don't think that adoption's a worthy cause, or anything. I do. But it's not... I want to be pregnant, I want to have a baby of my own. I just don't want to have sex to do it. Is that totally selfish of me?"
"A little bit," Aaron said, "but that's okay. And we can do that. We can even do it at home. I'm told there's syringes and things."
Clara considered that. "That sounds terrifying," she said, at last. "But I guess I can handle that. I mean, it won't be any worse than putting in a tampon." And certainly no worse than childbirth. Or raising the prospective child. Really, if she balked at this...
"That's the spirit," he said, and yawned. "Can I sleep now? I really do have to go to work early tomorrow."
"I'm sure I didn't mean to keep you awake," she said, loftily.
Aaron chuckled, and rubbed his nose against the back of her neck; his version of an Eskimo kiss. "Of course you did. What am I for, if not to talk you down from psychological ledges in the middle of the night?"
She yawned, and settled herself back against him. He was delightfully warm. "Ambulatory space heater?"
Aaron let go of her long enough to readjust his pillow, then threw his arm across her ribs again, just under her breasts. "You could get a cat for that. My dad and my stepmom had one when I was a kid, and I swear, he could heat an entire apartment with his fuzzy butt. None of us would ever let him share in the summer."
"I think you're exaggerating," Clara said, and laid her own arm over his, the palm of her hand resting over his knuckles.
"I might be." He yawned again, jaw cracking. "Good night, darling. Try not to have any more crises of conscience until morning."
"It wasn't a crisis of conscience," Clara objected. "It was a crisis of... of... something. But not conscience."
"Okay," he said, already sounding half-asleep. "Crisis of whatever. No crises."
She laughed, and patted his hand. "No more crises tonight." She paused for a moment, then added, "I love you, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he mumbled. "Love you too. Freaking go to sleep already."
Clara patted his hand again, but didn't speak. He wouldn't have heard her anyway; he was already snoring into the back of her neck.
She smiled at the moon, and closed her eyes.
Main Story: In The Heart
Flavors, Toppings, Extras: Carrot cake 30 (sleep), coffee 30 (moon).
Word Count: 1360
Rating: PG
Summary: Clara and Aaron discuss children. At 2:30 AM.
Notes: I am a terrible, terrible character mommy, because I laughed my butt off at Aaron's pain. Undignified snorting noises were involved. So I wrote him some fluff to make up for being a terrible character mommy.
I'm sorry, Aaron. Your pain is just so funny.
The moon was shining directly on Clara's face. If she had felt the tiniest bit sleepy, she might have been annoyed. Since she wasn't, she was more grateful for the company than anything else.
Half-moon tonight. She'd be starting her period in a couple of days. She'd been lucky, as far as menstruation went; regular periods from early on, as predictable as the moon, with no charming surprises like cramps, or the extreme sensitivity to smells her mother had suffered. Conception would be easy, for her.
Would have been easy, that is. As it was, birth control wasn't really an issue.
Clara wondered what her mother would have thought of all this. If Lynne Hawkins had been told that her only daughter had shared a bed with a man for the past thirteen months without once doing more than sleeping, she probably wouldn't have believed it. She'd been so vibrantly sexual herself. Maybe she wouldn't even have believed that Clara loved Aaron and knew he loved her.
She certainly would have been disappointed that there would be no grandchildren. Clara squeezed her eyes shut, felt moisture leak onto her cheeks.
Maybe she ought to get up and close the curtains anyway. This line of thought was getting her nowhere.
"Clara?" Aaron shifted behind her, voice thick with sleep but not annoyed. "What are you thinking about?"
She smeared a hand across her eyes quickly, wiping away that treacherous moisture. He was lying behind her; he couldn't have seen. "Nothing," she said, keeping her voice light and steady. "You have to be up early tomorrow. Why aren't you asleep?"
"Why aren't you?" he countered, then answered his own question. "Because you're thinking about something, and you're thinking so hard that it's keeping me up too. What's up?"
"I'm just...." She trailed off, then said, "I'm having trouble with some aspects of asexuality, that's all."
Aaron sat up at that, and leaned over her to get a good look at her face. Clara stifled a half-hysterical giggle when his face came into view, upside down. "Clara, please don't tell me you're questioning your sexuality now of all times."
"So what if I was?" she asked, then relented when he scowled. "No, it's not that. I'm still perfectly happy not having sex ever."
"Okay, good." He kissed her nose, which required some contortion and compression, then settled back down behind her and tucked his arm over her ribs. "So what did you actually mean?"
She loved this man. Hell, she was going to marry him, in... let's see, three months, two weeks, four days and... call it twelve hours, now. This needed saying, if they were ever going to have a reasonable relationship.
"Clara?"
That didn’t make it any easier.
"I want children," she whispered, and scrubbed her hand across her eyes again. "I just... I want a baby, and that's never going to happen."
Behind her, Aaron was silent.
She should not have brought this up. She should have just kept it to herself. It wasn't like this was a new dilemma or anything. All her life she'd wanted to be a mother, more and more seriously as she grew up, but the thought of sex horrified her. She still remembered crying in her mother's arms after the first day of sex ed, after she'd learned just what she'd have to do to have a baby of her own.
She'd been so glad when she met Aaron, so glad, because she loved him so much and he was asexual just like her, and she'd never have to do that to keep him; she'd never lose him like she'd lost Kevin.
But she'd never have a baby either. And oh, oh, she wanted one.
Why the hell wouldn't Aaron say something?
"I have to wonder," Aaron said, as if in response to that thought, "if five hours before I have to get up for work is really the best time to start a discussion as vital to marriage as one about children."
Clara was fairly sure that if she responded to that, she'd cry. So she elbowed him in the ribs instead.
"Hey," he said, mildly. "I'm not sure I deserved that."
"Maybe not," she said, "but please say something more relevant, because I think I might cry if you don't."
"Okay," he said, and tightened his arm around her, once. "Here's something. I do want children, Clara. I want to be a father. And I don't know about 'never going to happen,' unless there's something you're not telling me. There's ways we could have them, without having to resort to sex. I mean, my sister and Gina, they were talking about maybe getting in-vitro with a sperm donor."
She thought about that for a moment. "I'm not sure I want to see Ivy with children."
"Hey now," Aaron said, but there was a grin in his voice. "She's my sister. I'm the only one who gets to knock her prospective parental skills."
Clara ignored this. "Besides, isn't in-vitro really expensive? Ivy makes pretty good money and Gina has great insurance, but you and I, I don't know if we could afford that."
"We don't have to, necessarily," he said. "We could always go turkey-baster."
For some reason, that sent Clara into a fit of giggles."Do I look like a turkey?"
"Prettiest turkey I ever saw," Aaron deadpanned. She jerked her elbow back again. "Ow, Clara, that was a compliment."
"Still the wrong thing to say."
"There's always adoption." She started to object, but he kept talking. "Of course, I gather you were talking about children that are genetically ours."
"Yeah," she said, and was conscious of guilt. "It's not because I don't think that adoption's a worthy cause, or anything. I do. But it's not... I want to be pregnant, I want to have a baby of my own. I just don't want to have sex to do it. Is that totally selfish of me?"
"A little bit," Aaron said, "but that's okay. And we can do that. We can even do it at home. I'm told there's syringes and things."
Clara considered that. "That sounds terrifying," she said, at last. "But I guess I can handle that. I mean, it won't be any worse than putting in a tampon." And certainly no worse than childbirth. Or raising the prospective child. Really, if she balked at this...
"That's the spirit," he said, and yawned. "Can I sleep now? I really do have to go to work early tomorrow."
"I'm sure I didn't mean to keep you awake," she said, loftily.
Aaron chuckled, and rubbed his nose against the back of her neck; his version of an Eskimo kiss. "Of course you did. What am I for, if not to talk you down from psychological ledges in the middle of the night?"
She yawned, and settled herself back against him. He was delightfully warm. "Ambulatory space heater?"
Aaron let go of her long enough to readjust his pillow, then threw his arm across her ribs again, just under her breasts. "You could get a cat for that. My dad and my stepmom had one when I was a kid, and I swear, he could heat an entire apartment with his fuzzy butt. None of us would ever let him share in the summer."
"I think you're exaggerating," Clara said, and laid her own arm over his, the palm of her hand resting over his knuckles.
"I might be." He yawned again, jaw cracking. "Good night, darling. Try not to have any more crises of conscience until morning."
"It wasn't a crisis of conscience," Clara objected. "It was a crisis of... of... something. But not conscience."
"Okay," he said, already sounding half-asleep. "Crisis of whatever. No crises."
She laughed, and patted his hand. "No more crises tonight." She paused for a moment, then added, "I love you, okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he mumbled. "Love you too. Freaking go to sleep already."
Clara patted his hand again, but didn't speak. He wouldn't have heard her anyway; he was already snoring into the back of her neck.
She smiled at the moon, and closed her eyes.