just_muse_me | 15.1.5. Star Trek quote
15.1.5. “Every moment of pleasure in life has to be purchased by an equal moment of pain” - Star Trek: The Next Generation
Co-written with doctortara
[Follows THIS]
Marriage came with certain duties. It was a fact of life. Some of them were fucking fantastic. Others painful. And then there were those things in between that maybe weren't always so pleasant, but came with the territory of when you love someone so much your heart heats up every time you look at them. It was this that had Lachlan holding his wife's hair back at close to midnight as she revisted probably every pint of green Guinness she had ingested since she swooped on the Irish pub at four that afternoon with her dad. She was a true Irish lass at heart and there was no way she wasn't going to see out the end of St Patrick's Day without being piss-stinking drunk.
Of course, she had always had a tendency to get, for want of a better word, randy and handsy when she was intoxicated. Lachlan had struggled to even understand her when she called him to pick her up like she promised she would. Her Irish accent was usually soft and sweet, but after spending the evening drunk and surrounded by as equally as drunk and happy Irishmen, she had broadened in her accent and it probably didn't help that one word was stringing into the next because her brain was struggling to keep up with her mouth. When he collected her, though, her actions spoke much louder than her slurred lilted words. Lachlan new it was an absolute miracle that she didn't have him stripped naked and covered in love bites before they reached downtown Princeton. She seemed to listen when he laughingly told her he was struggling to concentrate on the road and instead chose to hang out the window with her wee Irish flag singing 'Her Irish Eyes' to every passing car. And that was even before he realised she was only wearing one sock and one shoe and her shirt was on inside out. He figured it was just safer for him to not know the reasoning behind all that. He knew her father had been with her, so he wasn't particularly worried. To be honest, he was struggling not to have a good laugh.
She was waning by the time they reached their neighbourhood, lying slumped in the passenger seat with her head looking like it had become too heavy for her neck. Lachlan fought the urge to have a true Scottish dig at the horrors of Guinness but refrained. It would probably be the one thing of the night she remembered and try to set the record straight the next day. She went from happy and adrenaline-fuelled to gushy and nostalgic, their son and her husband being her total focus as she told Lachlan over and over again wonderful and amazing they were, and how perfect his sperm was. That lasted until they pulled into their drive and then the giggling started, words being too hard to find anymore. She was giggling as he all but lifted her out of the car, her head on his shoulder. She nearly tripped over her own feet but before he had a chance to actually scoop her into his arms to get her inside, the avalanche of green puke started without warning... all over his jeans and shoes.
Lachlan was exhausted, but he tackled the situation with the same easy calmness he usually did. Their son had been restless and grizzly that night, his blood sugar levels peaking unexpectedly and needing another readjustment in his insulin. It could take some days yet before they found a regime that the diabetes stabled with medication and proper feeding levels. He had a feeling Tara was going to asbolutely kill him when she heard he hadn't called her to tell her Riley had taken a bit of a turn. She wouldn't have been able to do much after drinking, though, and she really hadn't had some time to herself in far too long. He just wanted her to have fun, so he took the parental reigns for the night while she let her hair down. He just didn't think he was going to be able to fall into bed for a wee bit yet.
He had called Riley just before he collected Tara from the pub and asked him to be on stand-by on the chance Tara might be in the condition she was. Lachlan didn't want their newborn son, even if he was sedated, alone at the hospital all night but he also didn't want to leave Tara on her own to deal with being drunk and no doubt hungover the next morning. It was the first time Lachlan had felt so completely torn in two and he was sure his heart started to physically hurt in response. Riley promised to put on his godfather hat and would take the vigil at the hospital if it was needed. And he was going to be. Lachlan knew that Tara would prefer - and was entitled - to be taken care of by her husband in the state she had gotten herself into. Afterall, it was countless times now that their positions were reversed and she never batted an eyelid to care for his sorry hungover (and often kilted) butt.
With a choked moan, Tara finally managed to stop emptying herself. She needed help getting into something that resembled a vertical position, though, and was slumped against Lachlan, who pulled some Kleenex from his jacket pocket and wiped her mouth for her. He brushed her hair back off her sweaty face and smiled. "Oh, you're going to feel it in the the morning, my wee Irish lassie," he said fondly.
Tara was having difficulty focusing, but she smile groggily with another disjointed giggle. She had the front of his jacket grabbed weakly in her hands to help keep her up and she patted slightly at his chest. "Lachie... husb... and... beaufil..." she slurred, swaying a little. "I want... want... 'nother baby. Don' wanna stop at one... les 'ave 'nother one, gorgeous... please? Jus' as perfec' s'our laddie... 'lways wanted m'than one..."
Lachlan felt much like someone had just tipped ice cold water down his back with a simultaneous knee in the gut. She drunkenly held his gaze for just a few moments before she slumped forward, passed out cold. He caught her and scooped her up to carry her up the path to their front door. The unsettling shock of her words was starting to thrum through him but he tried to force it all away so he could get her inside safely to clean her up for bed. At that moment, he desperately wished alcohol didn't have a way of making people confess to hidden truths... but he knew it was false painful hope.
Tara wanted another baby and he couldn't give her one.
All muses referenced with permission and are from the princeton2nyc verse
Word Count | 1,124
Co-written with doctortara
[Follows THIS]
Marriage came with certain duties. It was a fact of life. Some of them were fucking fantastic. Others painful. And then there were those things in between that maybe weren't always so pleasant, but came with the territory of when you love someone so much your heart heats up every time you look at them. It was this that had Lachlan holding his wife's hair back at close to midnight as she revisted probably every pint of green Guinness she had ingested since she swooped on the Irish pub at four that afternoon with her dad. She was a true Irish lass at heart and there was no way she wasn't going to see out the end of St Patrick's Day without being piss-stinking drunk.
Of course, she had always had a tendency to get, for want of a better word, randy and handsy when she was intoxicated. Lachlan had struggled to even understand her when she called him to pick her up like she promised she would. Her Irish accent was usually soft and sweet, but after spending the evening drunk and surrounded by as equally as drunk and happy Irishmen, she had broadened in her accent and it probably didn't help that one word was stringing into the next because her brain was struggling to keep up with her mouth. When he collected her, though, her actions spoke much louder than her slurred lilted words. Lachlan new it was an absolute miracle that she didn't have him stripped naked and covered in love bites before they reached downtown Princeton. She seemed to listen when he laughingly told her he was struggling to concentrate on the road and instead chose to hang out the window with her wee Irish flag singing 'Her Irish Eyes' to every passing car. And that was even before he realised she was only wearing one sock and one shoe and her shirt was on inside out. He figured it was just safer for him to not know the reasoning behind all that. He knew her father had been with her, so he wasn't particularly worried. To be honest, he was struggling not to have a good laugh.
She was waning by the time they reached their neighbourhood, lying slumped in the passenger seat with her head looking like it had become too heavy for her neck. Lachlan fought the urge to have a true Scottish dig at the horrors of Guinness but refrained. It would probably be the one thing of the night she remembered and try to set the record straight the next day. She went from happy and adrenaline-fuelled to gushy and nostalgic, their son and her husband being her total focus as she told Lachlan over and over again wonderful and amazing they were, and how perfect his sperm was. That lasted until they pulled into their drive and then the giggling started, words being too hard to find anymore. She was giggling as he all but lifted her out of the car, her head on his shoulder. She nearly tripped over her own feet but before he had a chance to actually scoop her into his arms to get her inside, the avalanche of green puke started without warning... all over his jeans and shoes.
Lachlan was exhausted, but he tackled the situation with the same easy calmness he usually did. Their son had been restless and grizzly that night, his blood sugar levels peaking unexpectedly and needing another readjustment in his insulin. It could take some days yet before they found a regime that the diabetes stabled with medication and proper feeding levels. He had a feeling Tara was going to asbolutely kill him when she heard he hadn't called her to tell her Riley had taken a bit of a turn. She wouldn't have been able to do much after drinking, though, and she really hadn't had some time to herself in far too long. He just wanted her to have fun, so he took the parental reigns for the night while she let her hair down. He just didn't think he was going to be able to fall into bed for a wee bit yet.
He had called Riley just before he collected Tara from the pub and asked him to be on stand-by on the chance Tara might be in the condition she was. Lachlan didn't want their newborn son, even if he was sedated, alone at the hospital all night but he also didn't want to leave Tara on her own to deal with being drunk and no doubt hungover the next morning. It was the first time Lachlan had felt so completely torn in two and he was sure his heart started to physically hurt in response. Riley promised to put on his godfather hat and would take the vigil at the hospital if it was needed. And he was going to be. Lachlan knew that Tara would prefer - and was entitled - to be taken care of by her husband in the state she had gotten herself into. Afterall, it was countless times now that their positions were reversed and she never batted an eyelid to care for his sorry hungover (and often kilted) butt.
With a choked moan, Tara finally managed to stop emptying herself. She needed help getting into something that resembled a vertical position, though, and was slumped against Lachlan, who pulled some Kleenex from his jacket pocket and wiped her mouth for her. He brushed her hair back off her sweaty face and smiled. "Oh, you're going to feel it in the the morning, my wee Irish lassie," he said fondly.
Tara was having difficulty focusing, but she smile groggily with another disjointed giggle. She had the front of his jacket grabbed weakly in her hands to help keep her up and she patted slightly at his chest. "Lachie... husb... and... beaufil..." she slurred, swaying a little. "I want... want... 'nother baby. Don' wanna stop at one... les 'ave 'nother one, gorgeous... please? Jus' as perfec' s'our laddie... 'lways wanted m'than one..."
Lachlan felt much like someone had just tipped ice cold water down his back with a simultaneous knee in the gut. She drunkenly held his gaze for just a few moments before she slumped forward, passed out cold. He caught her and scooped her up to carry her up the path to their front door. The unsettling shock of her words was starting to thrum through him but he tried to force it all away so he could get her inside safely to clean her up for bed. At that moment, he desperately wished alcohol didn't have a way of making people confess to hidden truths... but he knew it was false painful hope.
Tara wanted another baby and he couldn't give her one.
All muses referenced with permission and are from the princeton2nyc verse
Word Count | 1,124