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intheheartAuthor: Kat
Title: At Least
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: There's so many things Joy wants that she can't have.
AU: Joy/Chloe and post-zombie apocalypse
Warnings: background homophobia and stay-in-the-kitchenness for ladies
Notes: The first of my offerings for International Femslash Day. Fake Junetide written for Nikki because she was sad, and... not terribly cheery for all that.
Joy's nursing the baby when she hears her name.
She looks up and Noah's gesturing at her, talking fast and angry like he wants to punch someone. Which he probably does, because that's their most officious neighbor. Eric Thorpe does not know when the hell to go away, or to shut up, or anything, really, and he's about to get his nose spread over his face and that would be bad. Because they need him, much as they don't want to. They need everyone they've got left.
She hands baby Acacia over to Maya, who's got a bottle in her mouth before the baby can even think about crying, buttons up her shirt, and ambles over to Noah. She puts her arms around his waist and rests her chin on his shoulder, effectively restraining him from throwing a punch, and says, lazily, "What's wrong, honey?"
He keeps a straight face but a silent shake of laughter runs through his shoulders. She grins-- it's the pet names, gets him every time. "Mr. Thorpe was just wondering why Maya isn't pregnant yet."
And just like that it stops being funny. "Maya's body is her own business," Joy says crisply, straighening up and letting go of him. If he wants to throw a punch than he can. "Do you have a problem with that, Mr. Thorpe?"
He scowls. "It's everybody's duty..." he begins, and Joy cuts him off.
"Noah and I have six children," Joy says. "Jax and Chloe have five and another coming. Maya helps us wrangle them. She's doing her duty just fine." Fucker, she doesn't add, but Noah's shoulders shake again so she knows he heard it.
And Eric Thrope is still scowling. "Still," he says.
"Still," Noah drawls, "you're gonna wanna take yourself off now. We got work to do. Sure you do too."
He doesn't stop scowling, but he leaves.
The kids are all in bed, finally, which is something they could not have managed without Maya. Noah and Jax are still up somewhere, but Joy and Chloe have gone to their bedroom, blown out the candle and curled up together, breast to breast.
"I could've killed him," Joy says quietly, and she knows Chloe knows what she's talking about.
"It's good you didn't," Chloe says, and runs her hands through Joy's hair, scratching her nails reassuringly along her scalp. "You know how much people'd look at us then."
So much more than they look at them now. It's not just that Chloe used to be a superstar, back when they had superstars, back before-- but Joy shys away from that memory. It's more that there's the four of them, two ostensible married couples settled down and quietly producing child after child for the good of the country. The kids can't be denied and they certainly act like couples-- it helps that Chloe and Jax are soulmates, and that Joy's never had a better friend than Noah-- but it's weird, two married couples living in the same house.
She thinks as family sizes rise and children become more numerous, it'll be less and less rare. As people learn just how much trouble stairstep kids are, more and more couples will move in together. Polygamy might even come back-- but she doesn't think so.
She winds herself tighter around Chloe. She doesn’t think she could share Chloe with anyone.
"I do know," she replies, and settles her hand low on Chloe's back. "I want us to stay safe, I do, I just..." She thinks of Maya's eyes when she first saw them, huge and terrified, and feels angry again. "It's Maya. She's like my little sister, or my daughter."
"I know." Chloe feathers her hands through Joy's hair, letting it fall out over her bare shoulders, then settles her hands on Joy's hips. "I do. I know."
Joy lets out her breath, and puts her forehead against Chloe's. "I know. You're fucking gorgeous."
Chloe giggles. "So are you. Interesting segue."
"I'm pissed," Joy says, quite reasonably to her own mind. "I want to fuck it out. Interested?"
In answer, Chloe slides her fingers between Joy's legs, and there's no more talking.
It's hard. Of course it's hard. Joy loves Chloe more than she's ever loved anyone, and she wants to say so, wants to tell everyone that this is her wife, her lover, her heart and soul and every happiness. She wants Chloe acknowledged as the mother of her children, just as much as she is. She wants her children to able to brag that they have four parents, not just two; wants the world to know that women can love each other as intensely as men and women, and as well.
She wants all sorts of things she can't have.
But at least she has Chloe.
Title: At Least
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: There's so many things Joy wants that she can't have.
AU: Joy/Chloe and post-zombie apocalypse
Warnings: background homophobia and stay-in-the-kitchenness for ladies
Notes: The first of my offerings for International Femslash Day. Fake Junetide written for Nikki because she was sad, and... not terribly cheery for all that.
Joy's nursing the baby when she hears her name.
She looks up and Noah's gesturing at her, talking fast and angry like he wants to punch someone. Which he probably does, because that's their most officious neighbor. Eric Thorpe does not know when the hell to go away, or to shut up, or anything, really, and he's about to get his nose spread over his face and that would be bad. Because they need him, much as they don't want to. They need everyone they've got left.
She hands baby Acacia over to Maya, who's got a bottle in her mouth before the baby can even think about crying, buttons up her shirt, and ambles over to Noah. She puts her arms around his waist and rests her chin on his shoulder, effectively restraining him from throwing a punch, and says, lazily, "What's wrong, honey?"
He keeps a straight face but a silent shake of laughter runs through his shoulders. She grins-- it's the pet names, gets him every time. "Mr. Thorpe was just wondering why Maya isn't pregnant yet."
And just like that it stops being funny. "Maya's body is her own business," Joy says crisply, straighening up and letting go of him. If he wants to throw a punch than he can. "Do you have a problem with that, Mr. Thorpe?"
He scowls. "It's everybody's duty..." he begins, and Joy cuts him off.
"Noah and I have six children," Joy says. "Jax and Chloe have five and another coming. Maya helps us wrangle them. She's doing her duty just fine." Fucker, she doesn't add, but Noah's shoulders shake again so she knows he heard it.
And Eric Thrope is still scowling. "Still," he says.
"Still," Noah drawls, "you're gonna wanna take yourself off now. We got work to do. Sure you do too."
He doesn't stop scowling, but he leaves.
The kids are all in bed, finally, which is something they could not have managed without Maya. Noah and Jax are still up somewhere, but Joy and Chloe have gone to their bedroom, blown out the candle and curled up together, breast to breast.
"I could've killed him," Joy says quietly, and she knows Chloe knows what she's talking about.
"It's good you didn't," Chloe says, and runs her hands through Joy's hair, scratching her nails reassuringly along her scalp. "You know how much people'd look at us then."
So much more than they look at them now. It's not just that Chloe used to be a superstar, back when they had superstars, back before-- but Joy shys away from that memory. It's more that there's the four of them, two ostensible married couples settled down and quietly producing child after child for the good of the country. The kids can't be denied and they certainly act like couples-- it helps that Chloe and Jax are soulmates, and that Joy's never had a better friend than Noah-- but it's weird, two married couples living in the same house.
She thinks as family sizes rise and children become more numerous, it'll be less and less rare. As people learn just how much trouble stairstep kids are, more and more couples will move in together. Polygamy might even come back-- but she doesn't think so.
She winds herself tighter around Chloe. She doesn’t think she could share Chloe with anyone.
"I do know," she replies, and settles her hand low on Chloe's back. "I want us to stay safe, I do, I just..." She thinks of Maya's eyes when she first saw them, huge and terrified, and feels angry again. "It's Maya. She's like my little sister, or my daughter."
"I know." Chloe feathers her hands through Joy's hair, letting it fall out over her bare shoulders, then settles her hands on Joy's hips. "I do. I know."
Joy lets out her breath, and puts her forehead against Chloe's. "I know. You're fucking gorgeous."
Chloe giggles. "So are you. Interesting segue."
"I'm pissed," Joy says, quite reasonably to her own mind. "I want to fuck it out. Interested?"
In answer, Chloe slides her fingers between Joy's legs, and there's no more talking.
It's hard. Of course it's hard. Joy loves Chloe more than she's ever loved anyone, and she wants to say so, wants to tell everyone that this is her wife, her lover, her heart and soul and every happiness. She wants Chloe acknowledged as the mother of her children, just as much as she is. She wants her children to able to brag that they have four parents, not just two; wants the world to know that women can love each other as intensely as men and women, and as well.
She wants all sorts of things she can't have.
But at least she has Chloe.
