RPF: The Beggar Shan't Have'e- James McAvoy/Michael Fassbender- Part One
Sequel to Of A Lost King's Daughter and Father Toils Amid The Din.
Warnings: slash, mpreg and swearing.
Note: Some of the dialogue at the premiere scene is thanks to Gokuma. Thank you!
Hush-a-bye baby, the beggar shan't have'e
Nor more shall the maggoty pie
The rook nor the raven shan't take 'e to Heaven
So hush-a-bye baby, bye-bye
Hush-a-bye baby, bye-bye.
- Maggoty Pie
Michael wakes up to find that his husband is not in bed beside him.
He rolls over to the edge of the bed in order to look across the room, and sees James standing in front of the mirror, both hands on his stomach, peering at his reflection with a slight frown upon his face. Michael watches him sleepily for a moment, before speaking.
"What are you doing, James?" he asks, "Get back here, it's cuddle-before-the-kids-wake-up time."
James turns around, his hands still on his belly.
"Do I look pregnant to you?" he inquires bluntly.
"Uhh… I don't know. No." Michael replies blearily, "You can't be, anyway. We always use protection."
"Yeah, I know. Hm." James glances at his reflection once more, and then pokes his tummy. "Maybe I'm just fat."
"Maybe you're just my perfect James, and lovely for cuddling," Michael corrects, "Now get over here."
James obeys and gets back into the bed with Michael, who wraps his arms around him and pulls him close, kissing him softly. He feels that James is still tense beneath his lips, and so breaks back and nuzzles his forehead.
"If you're worried, though, we could get you checked out. Call Lesley and get a couple of tests done."
"Yeah, I suppose so." James mumbles, "I don't have anything other reason to make me think I would be… I just have a feeling I might be. Which is, er, concerning."
"Why? Are you concerned?"
"Well, aren't you?" James sits up and looks at Michael, with a serious expression on his face, "It means that the protection we're using doesn't work, and it means that we'd have to… have to go through this again." Michael doesn't say anything, so James sighs, looking away. "It isn't that I don't want another kid, Michael. I've always thought three was the kind of number I'd want to go for. I'm just… scared, you know? Sometimes I wish we weren't famous. We're A-Listers this time around. Well, you are." Michael scoffs, but James carries on, "I'm tired of hiding, but telling the truth could be dangerous. Oh, I don't know-" he trails off, looking distressed, wringing his hands agitatedly.
Michael hushes James softly, taking hold of his hand and rubbing circles into his palm with his thumb.
"It's alright, James. We'd make it alright, you know we would. I could still publish Amid the Din. Just because I haven't yet doesn't mean I can't ever. And, listen," he makes sure James is looking in it eyes, "I would give up any role for our family. Do you understand that? They could cast me in a remake of The Sound of Music, and you know how much I fucking love that musical, but I wouldn't take it if you needed me more."
"Thank you," James smiles, but then his face falls and he scowls again, "But of course, I might not even be pregnant. I mean, I haven't had any morning sickness. I might just be getting even bigger than I already am." he groans. Michael takes hold of the front of James' shirt and pulls him back down so they're lying facing one another again.
"Does it really bother you that much?" he asks gently.
"Well…" James says slowly, "I know that… that my weight's never really been an issue with me because you haven't made an issue of it, and I thank you for that… But I just want you to know, that if you do want me to lose a few pounds, I will. I am married to Mr Ripped James Bond , after all, and I could stand to try harder."
Michael chuckles.
"Oh, James. It's very sweet of you to offer to do that, but… no. I don't want you to. I like your body as it is." his hand slips under the covers and he walks two fingers over the spot on James' left thigh where he knows his faded white stretch marks are, making James shiver. He moves his hands to James' sides, rubbing gently, then tilts his head to kiss his forehead, "You're beautiful. I only worked out as much as I did after having Joshua in order to maintain some sort of mental balance after all that trouble with my eating, and truth be told, if I hadn't gotten Bond the I'd probably be a fair bit heavier right now." he kisses James' neck, "Y'know… Sara has your face. And she's a bit… plump, like you. If you wouldn't out her on a diet, why put yourself on one?"
James rolls his eyes.
"She's five years old, Michael. She's meant to be a bit chubby, it's just healthy."
"Yeah, well. Maybe you're meant to be as well. I've got no complaints. You're so damn beautiful."
"You have a fetish."
"You are my fetish."
Michael tries to tickle James' tummy, and a wrestling match under the covers ensues, which fast descends into a long kiss with plenty of giggles and grabbing of flesh. James breaks back, hushing his husband.
"Ssh, Sara's up, I can hear her coming."
"One more kiss, Chubby," Michael teases. He gets one of the lips before James sits up straighter and holds out his arms as Sara comes into the room, rubbing her eyes. Like Michael said, she has James' face, but in the past two years her hair has turned from brown with flecked strawberry blonde to bright copper, for which James blames- or thanks- Michael entirely. She is incredibly intelligent and perceptive: just the previous week she drew a picture of Professor X and Magneto, and drew Magneto smaller, in the background, proceeding to merrily explain perspective to James; and is constantly making her fathers proud to call her theirs.
"Good morning," James says, giving her a hug over the side of the bed, then pulling her up onto it.
"Hi!" she says brightly. She has a few pieces of paper in her hands, no doubt more drawings. She crawls across the bed to Michael, to hug him too, and then presents one of the drawings to him proudly. Michael takes it from her, looks at it and grins.
"Look, James! It's Gambit!"
"No, it's not." Sara says.
"It isn't?" Michael says, screwing up his face, "But it looks just like him."
"It's Mystique. She's pretending to be Gambit."
"Aaah. Makes sense."
"She's going to be naughty and do bad things but she wants Gambit to get in trouble instead so she's pretending to be him." she turns to James, "But it's okay because daddy- I mean, um, because Professor X," she says it quickly and excitedly, making it sound more like "Professorex", "Can read her mind and know it's her and not really Gambit."
"That's clever of you to draw, was that an episode you watched?"
Sara nods, then scowls.
"Naughty Mystique."
"Yes, naughty Mystique indeed," James agrees.
"Is Josh awake?" Sara asks, looking around the bed in case she missed him.
"Not yet, no," Michael says, "He's still sleeping."
"I love Joshua," she says thoughtful," But I like it when it's just me and Daddy and Papa sometimes."
James smiles, putting an arm around her, and she leans against him.
"Yes, that's nice just sometimes, isn't it?"
As if on cue, Joshua starts to cry from his bedroom. Michael grins and gets out of the bed, padding out into the hallway. He returns with Joshua on his hip, rocking him up and down gently. The two of them get back into the bed.
"Good grief, there's not enough room in this bed for you two," Michael tells his children amusedly, "Me and your Daddy are gonna fall out either side."
"There were four in the bed-" Sara starts to sing. Joshua giggles. Joshua's laugh is probably Michael favourite sound. He pulls his son onto his lap and kisses the back of his head, then tickles him so that the giggles continue and become shrieks.
"And how are you, little monster?" Michael asks him.
"Monster," Joshua replies. He does this sometimes: he likes to repeat words, get his head and his mouth around the sounds, and Michael can almost see the little cogs turning behind his big eyes as he learns new things.
"Yes, that's what you are. Sometimes!" he laughs, "How are you?"
"Good." Joshua smiles widely.
"Good, yeah?"
"Yeah."
"You wanna play while Daddy and me make breakfast?"
"Play with me!" Sara says eagerly, grabbing her little brother perhaps a little too roughly, but he doesn't seem phased, well used to her excitability. She hops out of the bed, helps Joshua down and then leads him off by the hand, her walking briskly, Joshua toddling as fast as he can behind. Michael watches them go, and then turns back to James. He slides both of his hands onto James' tummy.
"Wouldn't another one be lovely?" he whispers.
"Yes," James replies softly, "Yes, it would be."
* * *
After they've made the kids breakfast- pancakes, as a treat, because it's the last weekend of the summer holidays- Michael heads out to the pharmacy and returns with a pregnancy test.
"Will this even work?" Michael asks, as he hands it over, both of them standing in their large bathroom, "I mean, does it work the same way for you?"
"Yes, I've asked Lesley before. Just, um, out of curiousity. It's exactly the same."
The next few minutes seem to take an age, until James gasps.
"James?" Michael asks, his breath catching in his throat.
"It's… it's positive," James breathes, looking at Michael with wide eyes, "Michael… I'm pregnant."
Michael grabs James, picking him up and spinning him around, before kissing him hard.
"Oh, God," James murmurs, "There's so much to do. We have to call Lesley, book some more tests and an ultrasound, we have to tell Jennifer and Nick, and Patrick and Ian, and my mam- and tell Sara and Joshua! And-"
"Hey, hey, slow down," Michael hushes, "First things first, most importantly and vitally: we need to do the dishes." James laughs at that. "And then we can call Lesley. And everything else can come after we've seen Lesley, agreed?"
"Okay," James says breathlessly, "Oh, my God… I love you."
"I love you too," Michael beams, pressing his forehead against James'.
* * *
They have four days of bliss: of that initial warm, bubbling excitement between them; before it is quickly snatched away from them. The words that they hear in Lesley's office are worse than any that James could have imagined. It wasn't something he had ever even considered being possible: he supposes the fact that Michael and himself have ever been able to get pregnant at all removed more doubt than it ought to have done, so that he didn't even question it. Hysterical. The very word suggests shrieking stupidity and presumptive foolishness. It's all his fault.
James holds in the tears all the way home, but when they get there all he do is get into their bed and just lie there, crying. He doesn't know how to react to the news that the baby they've started to plan for is imagined. He hadn't thought he was ready for having another child, but thinking that he was pregnant had gotten him used to the idea so quickly and easily, and it had been so comforting and exciting at the same time. And now, to find out that there is no baby, and that it's his fault, his body creating the false alarm, destroys him.
Michael gets into bed beside him and holds him close.
"I'm so sorry," James sobs. Michael shushes him gently.
"Oh, James, don't be sorry. It isn't your fault."
"I really wanted- I really want-" he chokes.
"James," Michael soothes, "I love you. And I know. I want a baby as well." James is shaking in his arms, but his sobs lessen as he waits for Michael to continue. "Let's… try again."
* * *
About a month later, they're in the kitchen. The eggs and bacon sizzle and hiss in the pan as Michael cooks breakfast for himself and James. Sara is sitting up at the table, drawing yet again ("Sara! Please eat your frosties before they go soggy!), and Joshua is in his high chair, being inventive with a bowl of porridge. James sits opposite Sara, scratching his stubbled chin with one hand and rubbing his stomach with the other.
"Ugh, that smells absolutely disgusting," he complains, "What on Earth are you doing to that, Michael?"
"I'm just… frying it, like I always do," Michael frowns, and then his face lights up, "James?"
"What?" James says, screwing his face up.
"Do you feel sick?" Michael asks excitedly. James turns around to stare at him. "I mean, not that I want you to feel sick, but- do you?"
"Yes," James replies, "Very, but I don't see what-" he pauses, and then it dawns on him, "Oh. Oh." Michael bursts out laughing and seizes James to hug him, but gets pushed away at once. "No, I'm going to-" he babbles, before running out of the room. Michael can hear him throwing up. Sara finally looks up from her crayoning, concerned.
"Is daddy sick?" she asks. Joshua, now sucking on the handle of his spoon, looks expectantly at Michael by way of asking the same question.
"Yes, I think he is," Michael replies.
"Then why are you smiling?" Sara demands.
"Because it might mean something good."
* * *
James interlocks his and Michael's fingers and brings both their hands down to rest on his knee, knowing that if he doesn't keep Michael's hands busy they will inevitably find their way onto James' tummy. He doesn't like Michael touching him like that just yet, before they're certain, but in the past few days when they've waited to be able to see Lesley (James throwing up without fail every morning), Michael hasn't really been able to keep his hands to himself. James looks into Michael's face, cataloguing every trace of delight, and then sighs.
"What if I'm not pregnant? What if I just have food poisoning, or if my body's making things up again?"
"Then we'll try again," Michael insists.
"Michael. What if… what if I can't get pregnant anymore?"
Michael pauses.
"You really want a baby, don't you?"
James swallows.
"Yes. Yes, I really do."
"Well, then, it's simple. I'll have another baby."
"No," James protests, "I can't let you do that to your career. You're James Bond."
"No, I'm Michael Fassbender. And my family means more to me than anything. Also, stop putting yourself down."
"I'm not-"
"Yes you are," Michael swivels in his seat and tightens his grip on James' hand, "You are. You're suggesting that my career is too important to be interrupted by getting pregnant, but that yours isn't. Which is complete and utter bullshit. James, you're a phenomenal actor. You're Professor bloody X. Atonement, Trance, Filth, The House of Sleep. They're all amazing films. If having a baby is worth putting your career on hold, then it's worth putting mine on hold too. Do you understand me?"
"Yes," James mumbles, "I'm sorry, Michael."
"Don't apologise," Michael sighs, "I just don't want you to think I'm any better than you, because I'm not. I'm really not."
"I'm just saying," James says, his voice rising a little with agitation, "That you're an A-List celebrity with lots of roles lined up ahead of you, and a perfect body. Me, on the other hand: I'm a washout relying on the third X-Men: First Class film just so people even remember who I am, and my body's already ruined. I'm just being realistic."
"No! This," Michael hisses, "This is the kind of crap you have a stop! Don't compare yourself to me. You are not a washout, for fuck's sake. You've still been working these past few years. And dear God, James, what? Your body is fine. You barely look any different from how you did when we met. I don't understand this." James tries to turn away, but Michael puts one hand on the side of his face. "Just tell me what makes you think like this."
"I just…" James says quietly, "I love the children, Michael. But I just feel like they've made me into… a bit of a housewife. Which is fine. I just don't want that to happen to you, when everything's going on for you right now."
"Look. I'm not gonna pretend I don't love my job. Because I do. I love being an actor. But I love what you've given to my life so much more. Yeah, it's nice to have the money from Bond to hand. But I would throw it all away in a second for you and our children, okay? Housewife my ass- from where I'm standing, you're a pretty awesome working mum and or dad." James can't help but smile at that. "New baby or no new baby, my pregnancy or yours, I love you. You're the king of my entire silly little world. Never forget that."
"Thank you," James says quietly, smiling.
"As for how I feel about how you look," Michael grins wickedly, his voice dropping to a whisper, "I'll show you that later tonight."
"Michael," James reprimands, but his smile has widened and he keeps his hand in Michael's. They kiss briefly, then sit in contented quiet until they're called in.
"Hello again James, Michael," Lesley says with a smile, "How are you feeling?"
"We're good," Michael says, "We wanted to get James checked out, though."
"See, we've been, er-" James pauses for a second, looking for the right word, "Trying for a baby… and I've been throwing up in the mornings and stuff, so, er-"
"Hop up," Lesley smiles, patting the bed. James does, unbuttoning his shirt as Lesley prepares the special gel for the ultrasound. Michael looks at the small curve to James' belly, and smiles. He's sure he can see a difference, a hardness to the little bump, and it looks just like the younger man's stomach did last time around, five years ago. Michael feels almost certain that, this time, they've got it right. James shivers as Lesley rubs the cold gel onto his midriff.
"Michael, get over here please?" James says, holding out a hand. Michael steps to his side and intertwined their fingers. James grips tightly, clearly frightened from what happened last time they were in this situation. Lesley runs the scanner over James' tummy. James' breath hitches in his throat.
"There we go," Lesley says softly, "Can you see? There's your little baby."
James laughs out loud with relief and happiness, and looks instantly at his husband. Michael is crying silently, but smiling like he's just seen the most beautiful thing in the world. Which he has.
* * *
"It doesn't fit," James whines, fiddling with the buttons on his smart black suit jacket. Michael looks over from the edge of the bed where he is sitting, tying the laces on his leather shoes, a bow tie slung undone about his neck.
"Don't be daft, James, it does," he says, coming over. He does up the top two buttons of the jacket for him, and then leaves the other three open. "There. You look fine."
"You look amazing," James says, "I look in a state of undress."
"Don't talk like that, you'll get me all excited," Michael replies amusedly.
"After the premiere, eh?" James winks, amused.
Michael sits back down on the bed, and ties his bow tie. They are getting ready for the James Bond: Devil May Care London premiere, which is going to be interesting, to say the least. The last month has been a complete mad blur, it's been intense and stressful but neither of them would have changed a single part of it. The madness starts with the decision, made after much discussion between the two of them, to publish Amid the Din. James hesitates initially, but knows that it was the right thing to do. Unable to find any publisher who isn't either horrified or refusing to publish it at all, the book is self-published, but being written by who it is, it garners a lot of attention and within an hour of it being put out there, the phone does not stop ringing. Acquaintances, past co-stars, interviewers and celebrities who wouldn't previously have given Michael nor James the time of day. People seem split: there is the inevitable onslaught of hatred, those hollering about how it's unnatural and disgusting, that it's even child abuse to Sara and Joshua. However, they are surprised with the amount of support they seem to get too. The book gets something almost like a cult following, with groups of people campaigning to have chain bookstores stock it. Graham Norton wants them both on the show immediately. Michael is asked to do a second James Bond film.
The photographers get extreme. They'll do anything to get photos of James and Michael doing the most mundane things, and they're even worse regarding photos of Sara or Joshua. Currently they have to be escorted everywhere, which is frustrating, but Michael hopes it'll calm down soon. There is one incident, when Patrick and Ian are at James and Michael's house, and Ian steps calmly outside to yell at the photographers to "fuck the bloody sodding Hell off". James and Michael put their hands over Sara and Joshua's ears, respectively.
"Will you marry me? Again?" Patrick asks, in awed admiration.
It's when they're on the Graham Norton show that the opportunity arises. Michael is being a pain in the arse, refusing to stop poking and touching James' tummy at odd intervals whilst Graham asks his questions, fascinated and wholly supportive. The live audience is reduced, as a safety precaution, and security increased.
"So, now you've both had one each… have you thought about having any more children?" Graham asks. There a pause, and then James decides to make the leap he's been too afraid to.
"… Would now be a good time to announce I'm pregnant?"
There are instantly shrieks and cries, and although there's a low hum of booing and hissing, it is ultimately drowned out by the applause. James laughs nervously, and Graham puts both his hands on James' belly, and Michael presents a shark-grin to the audience and feels like he's glowing on the inside.
So now they're getting themselves ready for the premiere, they children staying with Jennifer and Nicholas, the first public event they've attended together since they made the announcement. Michael knows that they'll get press-ganged into an impromptu interview on the carpet, and has prepared himself for all the possible objections he might get. He looks at James, who is looking in the mirror at himself. His skin is clear and clean shaven, his cheeks tinged just a little pink. His hair is getting a little bit long, curling at the ends and at the front. He is around five weeks along, hence being unable to button his tight suit jacket without the buttons straining and being uncomfortable. He smoothes down the front of his suit and re-adjusts his red silk tie, and smiles. He feels good, and quite likes how he looks. He looks up and over at Michael, catching him gazing and beaming.
"You ready to go, darling?"
They don't let go of one another's hands for the entire duration of their time on the red carpet. The first interviewer is kind and professional, asking only about the film and about the awards Michael's been nominated for. The second, however, is not like this.
"Michael, Michael," the man clamours, "Do you not think what you're doing is wrong?"
Michael stays calm.
"What I'm doing? Having children, you mean? No, I don't. I'm pretty sure your mother had at least one child, did she not?"
This momentarily stuns the interviewer, but he continues,
"You can't be birthing children and also be James Bond."
"Well, screw that. Now let me elaborate: this is my life, and my choice, and you don't get to assess it, thanks very much."
"But people are very concerned about your career."
"Really? So what you're saying that responsible parents are worse than those who don't think that their family should be a priority?"
"But you're a man, Mr. Fassbender. You can't expect to keep getting masculine or macho roles if you're associated with pregnancy and swollen ankles."
"Yeah? Just watch me. And by the way," he leans closer to the man, "You can wave goodbye to your female readers who you've just greatly offended with your sexism."
"Mr Fassbender-"
He waves a hand and grins.
"I'm done, I'm done."
He turns to continue walking up the carpet, James smiling and still grasping his hand tight.
"James!" a female reporter calls cheerfully.
"Yep?" James replies, slightly wary of anyone asking him questions. She flashes a smile and her business ID at him.
"My name's Laura Hollander, I work for Wired Magazine. I know we might seem a pretty odd magazine to be interested, but we're fascinated by the workings of the drug and everything: would you be able to do an interview and a photo shoot for us sometime? We thought you might perhaps want to get out your side of the story."
James is slightly taken aback, and glances at Michael, who nods enthusiastically.
"Uh, yes! Okay!" James says, "D'you need my number?"
Throughout the film, James has his head resting on Michael's shoulder, his fingers drawing patterns on Michael's knee, Michael's own occasionally grazing gently at James' shirt front and the little curve beneath. It's late when the premiere ends, and James is yawning frequently by the time they get back into the back of their car. James slumps against Michael and promptly falls asleep. Michael kisses his forehead and nestles close against him.
To be continued.