FIC: a heart worth the breaking (Our Idiot Brother, Cindy/Natalie, R)

Title: a heart worth the breaking
Author: aphrodite_mine
Fandom: Our Idiot Brother
Info: Cindy/Natalie, post movie. SPOILERS. I already wrote happy C/N, so I thought it was time for some angst.

–

“Could we just sit down and have one fucking conversation before you freak out over this?”

It’s asking a lot, Natalie knows that, but they do.

–

Natalie’s made tea, which Cindy settles down with, her eyes cold and hard, the tea steaming up her glasses. She sets the mug aside, wipes her glasses on the edge of her shirt. Stares at Natalie. It makes her shrink up.

“You realize this just confirms every… goddamn stereotype, every reason that lesbians never do this.” She shakes her head, and Natalie can feel the distance between them growing, though no one has moved.

“That’s not fair, and you know it.”

Cindy sets the mug down, throws up her hands. “Hey, I’m not the one who cheated, here. My raging hormones were somehow kept in check. Because, oh, I don’t know. You’re enough for me.”

“I’m not proud of what I did.” And she isn’t. She didn’t expect it to hurt this much, to burn up her insides, to whisper, to moan Cindy’s name every time she crouched over the toilet or looked in the mirror and swore she was getting fatter.

“I’m not either.”

–

She deserves it. Natalie deserves to be walked out on, to turn in the middle of the night to Cindy’s side of the bed, cold. She deserves to leave unanswered messages day in and out. She deserves to feel like complete shit for what she’s done. It was supposed to be a nothing fling, stretching her limbs a little, feeding the urges so they’d quiet. It was never supposed to be like this. She was never supposed to care this much.

Or, you know, get pregnant.

–

“We can try again, okay?” Cindy says into the phone without saying hello.

Natalie’s afraid to answer. Her breath hitches.

Cindy’s voice goes deadpan. “I’m just worried about what you’d do to someone that small.”

A laugh bubbles up, and Natalie wonders if that means things will be okay.

–

Things aren’t okay.

–

They are for a while. Cindy, being extra careful not to look too long at the way Natalie’s stomach is starting to show. Natalie, trying extra hard to remember to do the dishes and not leave her laundry thrown on the floor.

They play a game, or at least that’s how Natalie frames it, every night in bed. “We’ll each tell each other something true. It doesn’t have to be nice or funny or sexy, it just has to be real.”

“But it can be those things, right?”

“Sure,” Natalie replies, scooting down on the bed, sliding her fingers up Cindy’s side. “For example, I’m pretty positive that I have some kind of psychological fixation on your tits.” It’s completely the wrong thing to say, but they both forget the remark, Natalie assumes, when her hand skates under the fabric of Cindy’s t-shirt, tugging it upwards, her mouth finding purchase at Cindy’s right nipple, tongue flicking slowly.

–

They hold hands in the doctor’s office, but mostly, Natalie thinks, because she’s too scared to let go.

“This might be a little cold,” the technician says, squirting blue goo onto Natalie’s stomach.

“Jesus!” she shouts, flinching. “No fucking kidding.” Cindy squeezes, the hint of a smile tugging around the corners of her lips.

–

“This isn’t about Christian, okay?” Cindy says, turning the corner out of the bathroom, cock first.

Natalie licks her lips, scoots back on the pillows. “Okay,” she replies, though she doesn’t believe it.

The harness is black, nylon maybe? Like rock climbing gear. It wraps around Cindy’s hips, between her legs. She’s still wearing a tank top, her nipples showing through the thin fabric, but nothing on bottom. Aside from the tan dildo. Natalie can’t look at the whole picture for long without her cheeks heating up. She spreads her legs unconsciously.

Cindy keeps her glasses on, she can’t see without them. She crawls up the bed, her face stony. She presses a kiss between Natalie’s legs, and that softens the blow of what she says next. “You know, if you wanted dick, you could have just told me.” And she lifts her head to bite at Natalie’s lips, sliding her hips down, up, the tip of her cock insistent, and with a gasp, a whimper, inside of her.

“I only want you,” Natalie whispers, her breath catching with every thrust.

Cindy bites at Natalie’s collar bone, breathing heavily, her hands tangled up in the sheets, filling Natalie roughly, then slow. Tender. Natalie’s neck is wet, and she whimpers, turns. Cindy is crying.

“Hey,” Natalie manages, wrapping her arms around Cindy’s back, tugging her down, slowing her movements until she stops. “Hey.” She reaches, wipes at the wetness under Cindy’s eye.

“I only ever wanted you, Natalie.” She kisses her, still inside.

–

“Look at you,” Cindy says, coming in to the kitchen, tugging up her boxers as she walks.

“Mm?” Natalie shifts her weight. Her ankles are starting to swell.

“Barefoot and pregnant and making me breakfast.”

Natalie smiles. “Scrambled, or… scrambled?” Cindy comes up behind her, rests a cool hand on her lower back, leans around for a kiss. It’s easy. She’s shocked at how easy it is.

“Just don’t burn them this time.”

–

They’re past it, Natalie thinks, and starts waking up humming.

–

Another appointment, another paper dress. The doctor leaves the room and Natalie slips back into her panties. It’s just chance that she looks up and sees Cindy’s face, shuttered off.

“Babe?”

“What if he looks like that prick?”

“He’ll probably just look like a baby, at least for a little while.”

“Yeah, but what if I… what if I can’t look at him without seeing.” Cindy shakes her head. “The doctor’ll be back soon,” she says, holding out Natalie’s bra.

–

The newspaper is waiting on the table when Natalie hauls herself out of bed around ten AM. Cindy has long left for work. She sees the red circle and sits down, though she knows she’ll regret it, having not made it to the bathroom yet.

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And scribbled next to the ad, in Cindy’s familiar chicken scratch, kid should have a proper nursery. Natalie runs her fingers over the words, and for the first time it doesn’t feel like a trap.