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PocketFullOfPosies
Super-Earth
- Joined
- Jan 20, 2010
Fuck Ben - and fuck Jerry too.
Fuck their Crème Brulee ice cream that apparently tasted so damn good with ranch Dorito chips at two o‘clock in the morning..Two in the fucking morning! Because apparently, Derek didn’t have anything better to do in the middle of the night besides, you know, sleep, than go down to the closest gas station - fifteen minutes away by the by, to go pick up said two revolting excuses for nourishment, and bring them back home.
No, of course not. He was perfectly content to do so. Ecstatic.
He hadn’t even bothered to change. Plaid gray pajama slacks, his old worn in Boston Academy shirt and the first pair of flip-flops in the closet…
Why were they having a third kid again?
Oh - because she wanted to.
Not that he regretted the two they had already but - come on. The last movie he had seen in theatres with more than a PG rating was Troy…and that’s only because Hunter hadn’t been born yet and Claire had taken Hayleigh for a mother-daughter outing..because you know, four year olds enjoy getting mani-pedi’s. It’s really worth shelling out a twenty to put nail polish on a toddler. But that’s beside the point. He could tolerate not really being up to date on movies or tv shows - at least those not aimed at children. Toy Story on opening fucking day but Star Trek had to wait until it came out on DVD--maybe. He sure as hell knew every episode of SpongeBob by now. For some god awful reason he knew the difference between Miley Cirus and Hannah Montana…And if on top of all that, passing out on a couch with half naked Barbie’s wedged into the cushions wasn’t enough of a sign that you’d relinquished part of your manliness for the sake of domestic life, then you had other problems….
Problems Derek Hayes, at times, wished he had..
It’s amazing how an unplanned pregnancy could immediately force things into perspective…And how two “planned” ones later, you still had no idea what the fuck you were doing.…
Sometime around three, Claire had wandered upstairs, cravings for the moment subsided and the little terror brewing inside of her six month swelled stomach for the time appeased; and now Derek couldn’t sleep. He had sunk into the couch after the good husband deed for the day had been met, and had laid there very still acting like he was asleep..hoping that he could pretend enough that he’d be able to convince himself, and then he really would nod off…
But no aces there, Jack.
“Fuckk..” A low, strained groan stirred in his throat as he sprawled out on the couch, muscles pulling taut as he stretched, energy sapped to the point that he couldn’t sleep. With a grunt he shifted around, laying on his stomach with one leg dangling off the couch and onto the floor, pillow pressed up against his face; wrenching his eyes tightly to try to force himself under - but to no avail.
It was pointless. He had to leave for work in three hours in order to beat traffic, since the hour long commute into inner Vegas would take twice that if he waited even five minutes past six. Whereas, if they had taken that condo closer to the city limits, it would’ve taken him half an hour…but no, suburbia it was - the close knit neighborhood feel of back home in Boston, but instead of the ball blistering cold, it was the sac scorching heat of Nevada.
The kids loved it though. 365 days of pretty much beach weather, without the water- which was good since Hunter was absolutely terrified of the ocean. Somethin about sharks smellin a pin drop of blood from miles away…That kid needed to go outside more. Play some sports…no six year old should know that much about things that could kill you….
After restlessly shifting positions a few more times, ending up on his side now, legs still dangling off the couch - but now resting on the coffee table at a slight angle, face resting within the crook of his arm, Derek finally felt that blissful just-before-sleep relaxation wafting over him----when little fingers jabbed between two of his ribs.
“nnhgo to bed Hunta’ ”
There had been a delicate hesitance to the prod, so he had immediately known that it was his son. Hayleigh would’ve jumped on his back or poked his eyes - the little princess.
“But The Early Show is debuting evidence of Halliburton’s involvement with the oil spill..” A soft, flustered sigh from the dark eyed first grader who was currently eyeing a piece of lint between his fingers.
“ Is that why you’re always down here in the morning? I thought it was cause you were still scared of your ceiling fan unhitching and falling on---”Derek shifted, peering up at his son with the same eyes; though his own were slightly narrowed, exhausted and now Hunter‘s were round as the moons on his cowboy pajamas. His mouth opened, ready to smooth over the statement that had been made, but his words were swallowed up by a groan upon spotting the taunting blue lights flickering off the DVD clock.
“Christ it’s five already..”
Rigidly, Derek got to his feet; picking up Hunter, who was momentarily caught off guard upon recalling the dreaded creaking noises his fan made overhead at night. The barely 50 lb rake of a child made a small squirm of protest before resting his head against his father’s shoulder, arms limply wrapped around Derek’s lean neck. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, passing the door with the flowery lettering of Hayleigh’s name towards the newspaper lettering of Hunter’s, Derek nudged the door open with his knee and carried his son towards the neatly made--what kid makes their bed at five am??
“Look champ, get another hour of sleep for me and I’ll get you a whole file on Hallibaxter while I’m at work today.”
“Halliburton.”
“Yeah, that one.” With an exaggerated grunt, Derek lightly tossed his son into bed. The small boy gave a reserved smile, never one to go all out with emotions of any sort. (As much as you hated as a parent for your kid to get picked on at school, I mean, the kids called him the robot for a fairly obvious reason…)
“Promise?” That tiny flicker of a smile still clinging to the thin lips he’d inherited from his mother as his dark eyes inspected the way his father tucked the covers around him; tiny hands moving out to smooth over a few wrinkles before nestling back, slightly more satisfied.
“Hey I got you those files on McCain’s military campaign, didn’t I?” It was nice having a buddy in the FBI who made detrimentally poor choices while intoxicated, “Now get some sleep”
Fuck…As the door shut, Derek ran a hand down against his face, pulling slightly at his chin. Stubbly…he needed to shave. As he headed into the master bedroom, he immediately walked towards the closet, carefully creaking it open, eyes narrowed in the dark as he felt around for a button up shirt. God forbid he turn on a light. No, Claire’s sleep had become extra-sensitive with this pregnancy; to the point he’d been banished into the hall bathroom to actually finish getting ready in the morning.
Though, he was exceptionally good at deciphering his clothes by feel now..you know, in case there was a power outtage or he went blind or somethin at least he would know he wasn’t dressed like a jackass.
“You aren’t gonna take a shower first?”
Quirking a brow, Derek glanced over his shoulder towards the king-sized bed. Amidst the ridiculous amount of pillows cluttered around like some kind of damn nest, Claire was curled up, facing the closet though her eyes were covered beneath one of those creepy sleep mask things. Sand-gold curls pulled back neatly, save for a few stray pieces framing her face. The covers were pulled around herself, the sheets even from Derek’s side of the bed, cocooned around tightly. God…eleven years and two and a half kids later, and she was still so damn hot.
A fucking pain in the ass sometimes, but damn she was gorgeous…
“Why? Do I need one?” He smirked to himself, pulling out one of the hangers from the closet with what he assumed was a white button up with a pair of gray slacks draped on the inside ---hanging a pair of pants with a shirt made getting dressed in the dark a bit simpler. “You should take one,” Claire rubbed the back of her hand against the front of the eyemask, pressing the lavender scented material closer to her face as she nestled into the pillows. Her other hand slipping down to adjust the prenatal mp3 wrap around her stomach that was probably playing baby Mozart or Shakespeare or something that Dr. Oz insisted would make the baby smarter…Though, Derek had argued while signing off on the $250 check, that they hadn’t needed one with Hayleigh or Hunter and both of those kids were too smart for their own damn good…especially Hunter.
“I’m probably gonna start sweating the second I step outside. I’ll take one when I get home,” He shrugged, walking towards the connected bathroom, seeing as she was awake anyway. The sound of the door opening coincided with a drowsy, protested huff.
“Noo…” The yawn made her irritation somewhat less palpable, “we have to go over to the new neighbors when you get home..”
God damnitt.
“Oh for fucks sake Claire can’t you just tell the guy I said hi?” Tossing his clothes on top of the counter, scratching at the stubble on his chin again, Derek gave a bitter glare towards the mirror. His face, despite looking utterly exhausted and stippled with hair, was tactfully sculpted. High cheekbones, a strong chin and dark eyes that were deceptively sweet. The boys back in Boston called him “Doe Eyes,” much to his dismay. It was a trait his father had always loathed in him...probably because they reminded him of Derek’s mother.
“You said you’d go over there with me!” The stirring roar of the she-beast started getting louder.
“I didn’t say shit Claire! You[I/] said we were goin’ over there. Nobody welcomed us to the goddamn neighborhood, why do we have to be the freakin Cleaver’s of Desert Shore?”
“Derek!”
“What? You said we’re goin, so we’re gonna go, so what’s the problem? Christ…”
Silence. A pleased murr.
“mn…love you.”
“Love you too.”
“Take a shower.”
God damnitt…It’s too freakin early.
Fuck their Crème Brulee ice cream that apparently tasted so damn good with ranch Dorito chips at two o‘clock in the morning..Two in the fucking morning! Because apparently, Derek didn’t have anything better to do in the middle of the night besides, you know, sleep, than go down to the closest gas station - fifteen minutes away by the by, to go pick up said two revolting excuses for nourishment, and bring them back home.
No, of course not. He was perfectly content to do so. Ecstatic.
He hadn’t even bothered to change. Plaid gray pajama slacks, his old worn in Boston Academy shirt and the first pair of flip-flops in the closet…
Why were they having a third kid again?
Oh - because she wanted to.
Not that he regretted the two they had already but - come on. The last movie he had seen in theatres with more than a PG rating was Troy…and that’s only because Hunter hadn’t been born yet and Claire had taken Hayleigh for a mother-daughter outing..because you know, four year olds enjoy getting mani-pedi’s. It’s really worth shelling out a twenty to put nail polish on a toddler. But that’s beside the point. He could tolerate not really being up to date on movies or tv shows - at least those not aimed at children. Toy Story on opening fucking day but Star Trek had to wait until it came out on DVD--maybe. He sure as hell knew every episode of SpongeBob by now. For some god awful reason he knew the difference between Miley Cirus and Hannah Montana…And if on top of all that, passing out on a couch with half naked Barbie’s wedged into the cushions wasn’t enough of a sign that you’d relinquished part of your manliness for the sake of domestic life, then you had other problems….
Problems Derek Hayes, at times, wished he had..
It’s amazing how an unplanned pregnancy could immediately force things into perspective…And how two “planned” ones later, you still had no idea what the fuck you were doing.…
Sometime around three, Claire had wandered upstairs, cravings for the moment subsided and the little terror brewing inside of her six month swelled stomach for the time appeased; and now Derek couldn’t sleep. He had sunk into the couch after the good husband deed for the day had been met, and had laid there very still acting like he was asleep..hoping that he could pretend enough that he’d be able to convince himself, and then he really would nod off…
But no aces there, Jack.
“Fuckk..” A low, strained groan stirred in his throat as he sprawled out on the couch, muscles pulling taut as he stretched, energy sapped to the point that he couldn’t sleep. With a grunt he shifted around, laying on his stomach with one leg dangling off the couch and onto the floor, pillow pressed up against his face; wrenching his eyes tightly to try to force himself under - but to no avail.
It was pointless. He had to leave for work in three hours in order to beat traffic, since the hour long commute into inner Vegas would take twice that if he waited even five minutes past six. Whereas, if they had taken that condo closer to the city limits, it would’ve taken him half an hour…but no, suburbia it was - the close knit neighborhood feel of back home in Boston, but instead of the ball blistering cold, it was the sac scorching heat of Nevada.
The kids loved it though. 365 days of pretty much beach weather, without the water- which was good since Hunter was absolutely terrified of the ocean. Somethin about sharks smellin a pin drop of blood from miles away…That kid needed to go outside more. Play some sports…no six year old should know that much about things that could kill you….
After restlessly shifting positions a few more times, ending up on his side now, legs still dangling off the couch - but now resting on the coffee table at a slight angle, face resting within the crook of his arm, Derek finally felt that blissful just-before-sleep relaxation wafting over him----when little fingers jabbed between two of his ribs.
“nnhgo to bed Hunta’ ”
There had been a delicate hesitance to the prod, so he had immediately known that it was his son. Hayleigh would’ve jumped on his back or poked his eyes - the little princess.
“But The Early Show is debuting evidence of Halliburton’s involvement with the oil spill..” A soft, flustered sigh from the dark eyed first grader who was currently eyeing a piece of lint between his fingers.
“ Is that why you’re always down here in the morning? I thought it was cause you were still scared of your ceiling fan unhitching and falling on---”Derek shifted, peering up at his son with the same eyes; though his own were slightly narrowed, exhausted and now Hunter‘s were round as the moons on his cowboy pajamas. His mouth opened, ready to smooth over the statement that had been made, but his words were swallowed up by a groan upon spotting the taunting blue lights flickering off the DVD clock.
“Christ it’s five already..”
Rigidly, Derek got to his feet; picking up Hunter, who was momentarily caught off guard upon recalling the dreaded creaking noises his fan made overhead at night. The barely 50 lb rake of a child made a small squirm of protest before resting his head against his father’s shoulder, arms limply wrapped around Derek’s lean neck. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, passing the door with the flowery lettering of Hayleigh’s name towards the newspaper lettering of Hunter’s, Derek nudged the door open with his knee and carried his son towards the neatly made--what kid makes their bed at five am??
“Look champ, get another hour of sleep for me and I’ll get you a whole file on Hallibaxter while I’m at work today.”
“Halliburton.”
“Yeah, that one.” With an exaggerated grunt, Derek lightly tossed his son into bed. The small boy gave a reserved smile, never one to go all out with emotions of any sort. (As much as you hated as a parent for your kid to get picked on at school, I mean, the kids called him the robot for a fairly obvious reason…)
“Promise?” That tiny flicker of a smile still clinging to the thin lips he’d inherited from his mother as his dark eyes inspected the way his father tucked the covers around him; tiny hands moving out to smooth over a few wrinkles before nestling back, slightly more satisfied.
“Hey I got you those files on McCain’s military campaign, didn’t I?” It was nice having a buddy in the FBI who made detrimentally poor choices while intoxicated, “Now get some sleep”
Fuck…As the door shut, Derek ran a hand down against his face, pulling slightly at his chin. Stubbly…he needed to shave. As he headed into the master bedroom, he immediately walked towards the closet, carefully creaking it open, eyes narrowed in the dark as he felt around for a button up shirt. God forbid he turn on a light. No, Claire’s sleep had become extra-sensitive with this pregnancy; to the point he’d been banished into the hall bathroom to actually finish getting ready in the morning.
Though, he was exceptionally good at deciphering his clothes by feel now..you know, in case there was a power outtage or he went blind or somethin at least he would know he wasn’t dressed like a jackass.
“You aren’t gonna take a shower first?”
Quirking a brow, Derek glanced over his shoulder towards the king-sized bed. Amidst the ridiculous amount of pillows cluttered around like some kind of damn nest, Claire was curled up, facing the closet though her eyes were covered beneath one of those creepy sleep mask things. Sand-gold curls pulled back neatly, save for a few stray pieces framing her face. The covers were pulled around herself, the sheets even from Derek’s side of the bed, cocooned around tightly. God…eleven years and two and a half kids later, and she was still so damn hot.
A fucking pain in the ass sometimes, but damn she was gorgeous…
“Why? Do I need one?” He smirked to himself, pulling out one of the hangers from the closet with what he assumed was a white button up with a pair of gray slacks draped on the inside ---hanging a pair of pants with a shirt made getting dressed in the dark a bit simpler. “You should take one,” Claire rubbed the back of her hand against the front of the eyemask, pressing the lavender scented material closer to her face as she nestled into the pillows. Her other hand slipping down to adjust the prenatal mp3 wrap around her stomach that was probably playing baby Mozart or Shakespeare or something that Dr. Oz insisted would make the baby smarter…Though, Derek had argued while signing off on the $250 check, that they hadn’t needed one with Hayleigh or Hunter and both of those kids were too smart for their own damn good…especially Hunter.
“I’m probably gonna start sweating the second I step outside. I’ll take one when I get home,” He shrugged, walking towards the connected bathroom, seeing as she was awake anyway. The sound of the door opening coincided with a drowsy, protested huff.
“Noo…” The yawn made her irritation somewhat less palpable, “we have to go over to the new neighbors when you get home..”
God damnitt.
“Oh for fucks sake Claire can’t you just tell the guy I said hi?” Tossing his clothes on top of the counter, scratching at the stubble on his chin again, Derek gave a bitter glare towards the mirror. His face, despite looking utterly exhausted and stippled with hair, was tactfully sculpted. High cheekbones, a strong chin and dark eyes that were deceptively sweet. The boys back in Boston called him “Doe Eyes,” much to his dismay. It was a trait his father had always loathed in him...probably because they reminded him of Derek’s mother.
“You said you’d go over there with me!” The stirring roar of the she-beast started getting louder.
“I didn’t say shit Claire! You[I/] said we were goin’ over there. Nobody welcomed us to the goddamn neighborhood, why do we have to be the freakin Cleaver’s of Desert Shore?”
“Derek!”
“What? You said we’re goin, so we’re gonna go, so what’s the problem? Christ…”
Silence. A pleased murr.
“mn…love you.”
“Love you too.”
“Take a shower.”
God damnitt…It’s too freakin early.
