Stupid Little Blue Lines
Author: agirlnamedtruth
Title: Stupid Little Blue Lines
Rating: PG13
Pairing/s: Morgana/Arthur (with background Arthur/Gwen and hints of Arthur/Gwen/Morgana)
Character/s: Morgana, Arthur
Summary: She never missed a pill, not once.
Warnings: Half-sibling incest, non-sexual peeing, thematic content, some explicit language and references to ageplay.
Word Count: 1575 (sorry!)
Prompt: 143 - Late
Author's Notes: Set later down the line in the same 'verse as Daddy's Little Sweetheart. I had about 4 variations of the same idea for this prompt (which is why it's so late, pardon the pun) but this was the world that really begged for it.
Morgana sat down on the sofa, carrier bag beside her, legs firmly crossed in denial. This wasn't happening. Not to her. She was always so careful. She’d never missed a pill, not once. With her choice of bed fellow, making a mistake was not an option.
Head coming down to rest in her hands, she hid behind the fountain of her long dark hair. He still hadn't said a word, he just glanced from her to the TV and back again, trying to gauge what kind of mood she was in. When she dropped by unexpectedly, it usually only meant one thing.
"Do you want me to turn it off?" he asked, gesturing toward the TV.
Morgana shook her head, heel of her hand rubbing slow circles on her forehead, enough to leave a pink mark when she finally lifted her head to meet his eyes. "No."
"I can watch it on mute, if you have a migraine," he said, hitting mute anyway.
"Arthur, I'm late."
"Oh. I wasn't aware you had plans. I thought since you’re here, you were going to stay in with us tonight? I know Gwen would love to see you.”
"No, Arthur, I mean I'm late.” She swung the carrier bag over to him, watching as it landed in his lap. He couldn’t fail to understand her now, with two different brands of pregnancy tests under his nose.
She watched out as his eyes lit up, joy at the possibility that he might be a father, before they widened, realising that it couldn’t be, not with her. He set the bag down on the floor and beckoned her over.
This is why she had come straight to him. Despite her fear, her guilt for letting something go wrong, she couldn’t help but give into her first instinct, to shut down, be strong, be cold, not cry. Getting up and going to him was harder than she could have guessed but she did it, drawing her legs up on the sofa and resting her head in his lap.
“I’m sorry,” she said as he pulled her hair back from her face.
“Don’t be,” Arthur said simply, like she’d forgotten to pick up milk. “We knew the risks. Nothing is foolproof.”
“That’s not why I’m sorry,” Morgana admitted. “If I’m pregnant, I can’t... Arthur, it’s impossible.”
“I know.” Arthur’s hair stilled in her hair and she didn’t have to look up to imagine the sudden clench of his jaw, the distant look.
“And Gwen...” she trailed off. The rest was unbearable. One of the reasons they worked so well together, why they didn’t think she was pathetic for wanting to be looked after, was because Gwen couldn’t have her own baby. “She won’t want me anymore, if she finds out.”
“Don’t be silly, Gwen loves you just like I do. She’ll understand, whatever happens.”
Morgana sat up, heart racing at the idea this could go any other way. That Arthur might be thinking it could go another way. “I can’t have this baby, Arthur, no matter what. Not just because of us but because I can’t do it. I come here to be your child, to be the baby. I can’t look after my own.”
“I know, Morgana.” Arthur pulled her in close, kissing her gently. Without her outfits and their words, daddy, darling, it seemed horribly grown up. She shrugged him off. She had to be an adult, just long enough to pee on a stick.
“Will you do the tests with me?” she asked, looking down at the carrier bag. Truth was, she’d have believed it if one test had come back positive but she’d still bought as many as she could afford, in case they were negative. She had to be sure.
“If you want, but I can already guess what mine will say,” Arthur said, smiling and taking her hand.
“Shut up,” Morgana said, trying to smile back but unable to force it, even for his sake.
She led the way to the bathroom, refusing to let go of his hand. When the door closed, she didn’t know what to do. Despite all their playing at daddy and daughter, this kind of thing had never come up. She hadn’t peed in front of anyone since that one time she wet herself in playgroup. After that, stage fright was not a strong enough word. But she couldn’t do it alone.
“Turn around then,” Morgana instructed, reaching for one of the boxes and prying it open. She took in the pictures on the instruction leaflet before ripping open one of the sticks and closing her fist around it.
Staring at the back of Arthur’s shirt, she perched awkwardly on the loo, jeans and underwear around her knees, the test placed where the instructions advised. But nothing was happening.
“Do you want me to run the tap?” Arthur asked.
“No,” Morgana said, closing her eyes, willing herself to pee until she felt like something inside her would burst.
“How about a glass of water?”
“No, just give me a second.” She took a few breaths, telling herself the sooner she got it over with, the sooner they could panic about what to do next. “Alright, run the damn tap.”
The gush of water did nothing to make her need the loo more but with the tap on, at least she could pretend Arthur couldn’t hear her go. Despite the instructions, she didn’t count five seconds and she didn’t watch to see if the tip had turned pink. She just held it there, hoping she’d done enough.
“Where’s the cap?” she asked, trying to bend down with one hand still between her legs, afraid that any sudden movement might alter the result.
“Is that it?” Arthur asked over the running water. “Are you done?”
“Yep,” she said, kicking her feet until a little blue cap appeared. She stuck it over the tip, thankful it had in fact turned pink in hue. “Take it.”
Arthur, to his credit, took it without hesitation. Grabbing some loo roll, she hurriedly pulled her jeans and knickers up in one go, not bothering to button them back up.
“Well, how long has it been?” she asked, checking both sides of the instructions, finding the dreaded waiting time.
“About fourteen seconds,” Arthur said, moving so she could wash her hands. “Come on, let’s go sit back down.”
Morgana shook her head and her hands at the same time, getting droplets of water all over herself. “I can’t. I have to know.”
“At least sit down then, there’s not enough room to pace in here, believe me,” Arthur said, glancing back at the toilet.
Morgana pulled a face then sat on the edge of the bathtub. It was more uncomfortable, of course, but there was an odd sort comfort in the cold surface and the pain in her arse.
“You seem awfully accustomed to all this, have you and Gwen...?” she shrugged, not knowing whether it was too personal a question.
“Like you wouldn’t believe. Pregnancy tests, ovulation tests, urine samples for doctor’s tests. We’ve done them all.”
“She really wanted a baby, huh?” Morgana asked, shivering. She couldn’t imagine anything more terrifying. Just the thought that she might already have one cooking inside her made her want to throw up. She swallowed the urge down, hoping it wasn’t morning sickness already.
“For a long time,” Arthur admitted, sitting down beside her and taking her hand. “But we’re happy with what we have now. Both of us.”
Morgana smiled. “If I could, you know I would, for you two. But our family - not me, you and Gwen, I mean our parents - it’s fucked enough as it is.”
“I know,” Arthur said. Morgana almost laughed. He kept on saying it, which was sort of hilarious because she didn’t know what she was doing. She didn’t have a clue what she’d do. How she’d handle it when she finally saw the results. A part of her was saying it all to him simply to convince herself she had a plan.
“Can I still stay tonight?” Morgana asked, squeezing his hand tighter. She hadn’t ever asked before, she just turned up and hoped for the best. If it was planned, it was always Arthur that called. It was always Gwen that asked him to. The first night, she’d nearly bolted afterwards. It had all become too real. Gwen had convinced her to stay.
“Of course.” Arthur offered her the test but she shook her head. “It’s been three minutes.”
“I know,” Morgana said, smiling wryly at the difference between Arthur saying it and it coming out of her own mouth, the utter lack of conviction. “I can’t look. You do it.”
She closed her eyes, hearing the click as the cap came back off. She could see it in her mind, two blue lines. Stupid little blue lines. Stupid fucking blue lines.
“There’s a line, what does that mean?” Arthur asked, showing uncertainty for the first time.
“How many lines?” Morgana asked, scrunching the instructions up in her hand, aware she was doing the same to Arthur’s fingers.
“Just one.”
She let out a breath, feeling like she might laugh or cry if she opened her eyes. “Thank fuck.”
Arthur let out the same shaky breath before standing. She heard the test clatter in the metal bin and finally felt it was safe to open her eyes. “Now for the digital one.”
Title: Stupid Little Blue Lines
Rating: PG13
Pairing/s: Morgana/Arthur (with background Arthur/Gwen and hints of Arthur/Gwen/Morgana)
Character/s: Morgana, Arthur
Summary: She never missed a pill, not once.
Warnings: Half-sibling incest, non-sexual peeing, thematic content, some explicit language and references to ageplay.
Word Count: 1575 (sorry!)
Prompt: 143 - Late
Author's Notes: Set later down the line in the same 'verse as Daddy's Little Sweetheart. I had about 4 variations of the same idea for this prompt (which is why it's so late, pardon the pun) but this was the world that really begged for it.
Morgana sat down on the sofa, carrier bag beside her, legs firmly crossed in denial. This wasn't happening. Not to her. She was always so careful. She’d never missed a pill, not once. With her choice of bed fellow, making a mistake was not an option.
Head coming down to rest in her hands, she hid behind the fountain of her long dark hair. He still hadn't said a word, he just glanced from her to the TV and back again, trying to gauge what kind of mood she was in. When she dropped by unexpectedly, it usually only meant one thing.
"Do you want me to turn it off?" he asked, gesturing toward the TV.
Morgana shook her head, heel of her hand rubbing slow circles on her forehead, enough to leave a pink mark when she finally lifted her head to meet his eyes. "No."
"I can watch it on mute, if you have a migraine," he said, hitting mute anyway.
"Arthur, I'm late."
"Oh. I wasn't aware you had plans. I thought since you’re here, you were going to stay in with us tonight? I know Gwen would love to see you.”
"No, Arthur, I mean I'm late.” She swung the carrier bag over to him, watching as it landed in his lap. He couldn’t fail to understand her now, with two different brands of pregnancy tests under his nose.
She watched out as his eyes lit up, joy at the possibility that he might be a father, before they widened, realising that it couldn’t be, not with her. He set the bag down on the floor and beckoned her over.
This is why she had come straight to him. Despite her fear, her guilt for letting something go wrong, she couldn’t help but give into her first instinct, to shut down, be strong, be cold, not cry. Getting up and going to him was harder than she could have guessed but she did it, drawing her legs up on the sofa and resting her head in his lap.
“I’m sorry,” she said as he pulled her hair back from her face.
“Don’t be,” Arthur said simply, like she’d forgotten to pick up milk. “We knew the risks. Nothing is foolproof.”
“That’s not why I’m sorry,” Morgana admitted. “If I’m pregnant, I can’t... Arthur, it’s impossible.”
“I know.” Arthur’s hair stilled in her hair and she didn’t have to look up to imagine the sudden clench of his jaw, the distant look.
“And Gwen...” she trailed off. The rest was unbearable. One of the reasons they worked so well together, why they didn’t think she was pathetic for wanting to be looked after, was because Gwen couldn’t have her own baby. “She won’t want me anymore, if she finds out.”
“Don’t be silly, Gwen loves you just like I do. She’ll understand, whatever happens.”
Morgana sat up, heart racing at the idea this could go any other way. That Arthur might be thinking it could go another way. “I can’t have this baby, Arthur, no matter what. Not just because of us but because I can’t do it. I come here to be your child, to be the baby. I can’t look after my own.”
“I know, Morgana.” Arthur pulled her in close, kissing her gently. Without her outfits and their words, daddy, darling, it seemed horribly grown up. She shrugged him off. She had to be an adult, just long enough to pee on a stick.
“Will you do the tests with me?” she asked, looking down at the carrier bag. Truth was, she’d have believed it if one test had come back positive but she’d still bought as many as she could afford, in case they were negative. She had to be sure.
“If you want, but I can already guess what mine will say,” Arthur said, smiling and taking her hand.
“Shut up,” Morgana said, trying to smile back but unable to force it, even for his sake.
She led the way to the bathroom, refusing to let go of his hand. When the door closed, she didn’t know what to do. Despite all their playing at daddy and daughter, this kind of thing had never come up. She hadn’t peed in front of anyone since that one time she wet herself in playgroup. After that, stage fright was not a strong enough word. But she couldn’t do it alone.
“Turn around then,” Morgana instructed, reaching for one of the boxes and prying it open. She took in the pictures on the instruction leaflet before ripping open one of the sticks and closing her fist around it.
Staring at the back of Arthur’s shirt, she perched awkwardly on the loo, jeans and underwear around her knees, the test placed where the instructions advised. But nothing was happening.
“Do you want me to run the tap?” Arthur asked.
“No,” Morgana said, closing her eyes, willing herself to pee until she felt like something inside her would burst.
“How about a glass of water?”
“No, just give me a second.” She took a few breaths, telling herself the sooner she got it over with, the sooner they could panic about what to do next. “Alright, run the damn tap.”
The gush of water did nothing to make her need the loo more but with the tap on, at least she could pretend Arthur couldn’t hear her go. Despite the instructions, she didn’t count five seconds and she didn’t watch to see if the tip had turned pink. She just held it there, hoping she’d done enough.
“Where’s the cap?” she asked, trying to bend down with one hand still between her legs, afraid that any sudden movement might alter the result.
“Is that it?” Arthur asked over the running water. “Are you done?”
“Yep,” she said, kicking her feet until a little blue cap appeared. She stuck it over the tip, thankful it had in fact turned pink in hue. “Take it.”
Arthur, to his credit, took it without hesitation. Grabbing some loo roll, she hurriedly pulled her jeans and knickers up in one go, not bothering to button them back up.
“Well, how long has it been?” she asked, checking both sides of the instructions, finding the dreaded waiting time.
“About fourteen seconds,” Arthur said, moving so she could wash her hands. “Come on, let’s go sit back down.”
Morgana shook her head and her hands at the same time, getting droplets of water all over herself. “I can’t. I have to know.”
“At least sit down then, there’s not enough room to pace in here, believe me,” Arthur said, glancing back at the toilet.
Morgana pulled a face then sat on the edge of the bathtub. It was more uncomfortable, of course, but there was an odd sort comfort in the cold surface and the pain in her arse.
“You seem awfully accustomed to all this, have you and Gwen...?” she shrugged, not knowing whether it was too personal a question.
“Like you wouldn’t believe. Pregnancy tests, ovulation tests, urine samples for doctor’s tests. We’ve done them all.”
“She really wanted a baby, huh?” Morgana asked, shivering. She couldn’t imagine anything more terrifying. Just the thought that she might already have one cooking inside her made her want to throw up. She swallowed the urge down, hoping it wasn’t morning sickness already.
“For a long time,” Arthur admitted, sitting down beside her and taking her hand. “But we’re happy with what we have now. Both of us.”
Morgana smiled. “If I could, you know I would, for you two. But our family - not me, you and Gwen, I mean our parents - it’s fucked enough as it is.”
“I know,” Arthur said. Morgana almost laughed. He kept on saying it, which was sort of hilarious because she didn’t know what she was doing. She didn’t have a clue what she’d do. How she’d handle it when she finally saw the results. A part of her was saying it all to him simply to convince herself she had a plan.
“Can I still stay tonight?” Morgana asked, squeezing his hand tighter. She hadn’t ever asked before, she just turned up and hoped for the best. If it was planned, it was always Arthur that called. It was always Gwen that asked him to. The first night, she’d nearly bolted afterwards. It had all become too real. Gwen had convinced her to stay.
“Of course.” Arthur offered her the test but she shook her head. “It’s been three minutes.”
“I know,” Morgana said, smiling wryly at the difference between Arthur saying it and it coming out of her own mouth, the utter lack of conviction. “I can’t look. You do it.”
She closed her eyes, hearing the click as the cap came back off. She could see it in her mind, two blue lines. Stupid little blue lines. Stupid fucking blue lines.
“There’s a line, what does that mean?” Arthur asked, showing uncertainty for the first time.
“How many lines?” Morgana asked, scrunching the instructions up in her hand, aware she was doing the same to Arthur’s fingers.
“Just one.”
She let out a breath, feeling like she might laugh or cry if she opened her eyes. “Thank fuck.”
Arthur let out the same shaky breath before standing. She heard the test clatter in the metal bin and finally felt it was safe to open her eyes. “Now for the digital one.”