Amber

[intheheart]

Title: Amber
Rating: PG-13
Summary: In which Ivy recovers a present, Gina is amused and touched, and Andy fails to follow instructions.
Warnings: makeouts, some no-no words.
Notes: Meme fill for shadowsong, "Ivy/Gina, "that's really not the best hiding place for a present."" This, uh, got away from me a little. Also, Skimble is a cat.


It was actually a pretty peaceful day, Ivy thought, reclining on the couch with her feet up and Skimble purring happily on her stomach. Nothing but routine checkups at the clinic, Gina hadn't had a doctor's appointment or even a minor annoyance, and for once her kid hadn't fought her about doing his homework--he'd probably get bad again once the baby made her appearance, but there were still two months to worry about that.

She let out a breath and stroked along Skimble's back, pleased when she arched into the touch. Gina was napping in their bedroom, Andy was doing whatever homework kindergarten teachers gave. She'd take the quiet when she could get it.

Which of course jinxed it.

"Mom!" Andy bawled, and she jumped, startling Skimble into making a run for it. "Can I have a cookie?"

Ivy pinched the bridge of her nose and said, "I'm right here, kid, no need to scream."

Andy poked his head around the kitchen corner and said, "Oh. Sorry, Mom."

She waved a hand at him. "Indoor voice next time. What did you want?"

"A cookie," he said, unashamed. "I did all my homework, so can I have one?"

Aha. Ulterior motives. Ah, well, he was her son. "Go ahead," Ivy said. "But just one. Don't wreck your dinner."

"'Kay," he said, and went back around the corner.

He probably wouldn't stick to just one, but he wouldn't ruin his dinner either, which was fine by Ivy so long as he conducted himself with a reasonable amount of stealth. She leaned back against the couch.

And sat bolt upright again when she remembered what else was in the cookie jar.

"Andy..."

"Mom!" he bawled again. "Why's there a present in the cookie jar?"

Ivy let her head thump back against the arm of the couch. Fantastic. The only way this could get better was if—

"Ivy?"

If Gina was awake. God damn it.

Ivy leaned back to look up into her wife's face and inquired, innocently, "Yes, my sweet?"

Thank God, Gina looked amused, standing above her with one hand under her belly and the other on the back of the couch. She was still a bit sleepy-eyed, her honey-dark hair tousled, but she'd clearly been awake already, Andy's hollering notwithstanding.

"I think Andy posed a very good question," she said, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Why is there a present in the cookie jar?"

"It was supposed to be a surprise," Ivy said. Gina laughed.

Andy rounded the corner again, one cookie squirreled away in his cheeks, another in his hand, and in his other hand a small wrapped box. "Is this for Mama?" he asked, although since his mouth was full it took some considerable experience for Ivy to understand him.

"Andrew Kendall," she said, and he looked up guiltily. "If you're going to blatantly disobey me at least make an attempt to not get caught."

"Sorry, Mom," he muttered, indistinctly. "I'll put it back."

"You do that," Ivy said. She got up, went over to him and held her hand out. "But give me the present first. And then scram. I have to talk to Mama."

Andy handed the present over and obediently scrammed, probably not to put the cookie back but whatever. Ivy turned back towards Gina, who looked amused again.

"Is it too much to ask that you not teach him to steal cookies?"

"He's going to do it anyway," Ivy pointed out, with what she felt to be flawless logic. "He might as well do it right."

Gina sighed, but she was still smiling. "All right. So what's with the present?"

"Well," Ivy said, and weighed the box in her palm. "You remember the bracelet my mom gave me when we adopted Andy?"

Gina nodded. "The amber one. Yes, I remember."

"Right, well." Of course she did; Ivy wore it on Andy's birthday, and his adoption day, and every time he had an important event. "It used to be my grandmother's, but she gave it to Mom when I was born. And my grandmother got it from her mother when Mom was born. I think it was my great-grandmother's first, though, because my great-grandfather was in the Baltic during the war and amber was really cheap, there, and..." Ivy paused, aware she was babbling, and took a deep breath.

"So it's to mark having your first child?" Gina asked, mercifully breaking the silence.

Ivy nodded. "Yeah, exactly. And, um. It's kind of a thing, you know? I felt bad that you didn't have one."

Gina shrugged, and sat down on the arm of the couch. "It's your family tradition, sweetheart. I wasn't hurt by it or anything."

"No," Ivy said. "I didn't think so, and anyway I know you don't like bracelets. But I felt bad, and you know how I have really thin wrists, so it was too big anyway, and, well, here." She handed the package over.

Gina took it, glanced at Ivy curiously, and unwrapped it, neatly, picking apart the tape and wrapping paper like she always did. Summer had been on some kind of environmental kick back when they'd first gotten serious; she'd said something about recycling wrapping paper and as far as Ivy knew Gina had done it ever since, because she took Summer seriously, and that was one of the reasons Ivy loved her so goddamn much, because she loved Summer...

"Oh, Ivy," Gina breathed, and lifted the ring from its box. It was very simple, and rather small, an oval piece of amber in a plain silver setting. In the sun, held up like that, it echoed amber highlights in Gina's honey-colored hair. "Is this from...?"

When she didn't finish, Ivy said, "Yeah. They just took off one of the beads and put it in a setting." She smiled, a little nervously. "The bracelet fits me much better now."

Gina didn't say anything for a long, nerve-wracking moment. Then she fitted the ring on her right index finger, stood, and kissed Ivy hard.

"So you like it," Ivy said breathlessly, when they pulled apart.

"I love it," Gina said. "But I just have one question. Why on earth was it in the cookie jar?"

Ivy made a face. "Because you came home early yesterday, that's why. I had to hide it in a hurry and then I just... forgot."

"Until Andy," Gina said, and nodded. "It's a good thing he likes cookies, or we might never have seen it again."

"Oh, bite me," Ivy said, and yelped when Gina obliged, a scrape of teeth across the sensitive spot on her neck. "Oh, do that again..."

"Ew," Andy commented from the door. "Mom, can I have another cookie?"

Christ. "You can have the whole damn jar," Ivy said. "Just scram. And stay scrammed."

"Okay," Andy said, and vanished again.

"He'll ruin his dinner," Gina commented, mouthing over Ivy's collarbone.

"He can ruin anything he wants," Ivy said, and pulled Gina closer.