She could hear him in the kitchen, the clink of spoon on mug and the telltale beep, the thump of the microwave door. But Clu figured it was no big deal: chocolate was chocolate, and he wasn't breaking character for a time-saving appliance--although, in game, it would have cost almost as much as a car.
That was part of what he liked about this one: while this era was harsher than their own, with cruelty or worse the fate for anyone who dared not fit neatly within their roles--well. Six decades was a long time, but also close by, as Users reckoned things. Just far enough away that the fancy clothes and weird furniture and costly microwave made it a different place. It felt like a metaphor, or an old song or an interesting museum exhibit, and not like something he could actually mess up.
Because no matter how much he loved his alpha, Clu himself was nobody's first choice for a good parent.
But this was different. She was different. She'd have been practicing to welcome a child from her very first doll, with all her earliest stories teeming with tall, dark, and handsome strangers. Strong, silent types who nonetheless wanted to settle down. Or could be made to settle down, by the right omega with the right skills.
Hadn't she fallen head over heels for that exact guy? Stern and smooth and handsome, and so quick. Quick to be rid of her, too, turning always into best of luck, doll in a heartbeat.
She'd never thought to find kindness after her mistakes, or to deserve affection. But she'd met an alpha who gave her both, who proved a sweet, caring person over these few perfect months they'd lived together. Her luck had changed. Her life had changed: he asked what she wanted, and what she thought--she was more to him than just how well she filled out a sweater.
Though. She'd noticed he seemed--call it fascinated--with the way she changed as they grew together, her and the little one. Alpha was tender and curious, and so gentle with her that sometimes she felt a rush of very natural warmth, primal and all over.
He was interested, even if she was as big as a house. And she was intensely interested back. If it had all gone just a little differently, she'd have worn his class ring home. She still dared hope, deep and private, that they might bond.
Later. When it would be safe for the baby. After all, that was the reason she'd been careful to be shy--to return his affection gently, demure and tame. They couldn't risk the child on a bit of bounce-the-mattress.
Not that they could anyway--for one thing, he couldn't reach. She hadn't seen her own feet in months, lost under the swell of new life. (It was heavy, and it radiated his body heat back to him, and he had to concentrate to remember it was just an outfit, far away out there.)
"Oh!" She leaned into alpha and took her mug with a grateful hum, eyes shining as she kissed back. Even like this, to him she was beautiful. "I'm just a little tired, lately. But this--" she sighed happily, patted the cushion beside herself in invitation. There was still room on the sofa, if he didn't mind a snug fit. "I'm so glad you made it."
Eyes wide for the taste, with a little trill of appreciation. "It's delicious."
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That was part of what he liked about this one: while this era was harsher than their own, with cruelty or worse the fate for anyone who dared not fit neatly within their roles--well. Six decades was a long time, but also close by, as Users reckoned things. Just far enough away that the fancy clothes and weird furniture and costly microwave made it a different place. It felt like a metaphor, or an old song or an interesting museum exhibit, and not like something he could actually mess up.
Because no matter how much he loved his alpha, Clu himself was nobody's first choice for a good parent.
But this was different. She was different. She'd have been practicing to welcome a child from her very first doll, with all her earliest stories teeming with tall, dark, and handsome strangers. Strong, silent types who nonetheless wanted to settle down. Or could be made to settle down, by the right omega with the right skills.
Hadn't she fallen head over heels for that exact guy? Stern and smooth and handsome, and so quick. Quick to be rid of her, too, turning always into best of luck, doll in a heartbeat.
She'd never thought to find kindness after her mistakes, or to deserve affection. But she'd met an alpha who gave her both, who proved a sweet, caring person over these few perfect months they'd lived together. Her luck had changed. Her life had changed: he asked what she wanted, and what she thought--she was more to him than just how well she filled out a sweater.
Though. She'd noticed he seemed--call it fascinated--with the way she changed as they grew together, her and the little one. Alpha was tender and curious, and so gentle with her that sometimes she felt a rush of very natural warmth, primal and all over.
He was interested, even if she was as big as a house. And she was intensely interested back. If it had all gone just a little differently, she'd have worn his class ring home. She still dared hope, deep and private, that they might bond.
Later. When it would be safe for the baby. After all, that was the reason she'd been careful to be shy--to return his affection gently, demure and tame. They couldn't risk the child on a bit of bounce-the-mattress.
Not that they could anyway--for one thing, he couldn't reach. She hadn't seen her own feet in months, lost under the swell of new life.
(It was heavy, and it radiated his body heat back to him, and he had to concentrate to remember it was just an outfit, far away out there.)
"Oh!" She leaned into alpha and took her mug with a grateful hum, eyes shining as she kissed back. Even like this, to him she was beautiful. "I'm just a little tired, lately. But this--" she sighed happily, patted the cushion beside herself in invitation. There was still room on the sofa, if he didn't mind a snug fit. "I'm so glad you made it."
Eyes wide for the taste, with a little trill of appreciation. "It's delicious."