Disclaimer: Daria and associated characters are owned by MTV/Viacom, or whomever has acquired the intellectual property rights. This is fan fiction written for fun and entertainment only. No money or other negotiable currency or goods have been exchanged.

Two Apples

Daria pulled a box of tampons from the shelf and put it in the cart. A little further down the aisle, she saw her boyfriend in front of the family planning products, looking a little uncertain. As she approached, he dropped a box of condoms into the cart, and pointed to a grouping of contraceptive foams. She smiled, and chose one.

She hesitated, and then reached for the condoms and put them back on the shelf. She'd started on the pill a while ago, and the foam was just a bit of insurance. He'd been tested for STDs, and he had promised her a committed, monogamous relationship. A guy, and a musician, no less. You're supposed to be a smart woman, Morgendorffer.

Not all that long ago, she would have questioned the wisdom of her decision to trust him to be faithful to her.

They continued down towards the produce section together for the stir-fry ingredients, as though nothing unusual had just happened.

Things are different, Daria reflected. Not that long ago, she would have been mortified to put just those last two items into a shopping cart with him anywhere nearby. She was comfortable; it was getting hard to remember what it was like to be so nervous and self-conscious around him. Now, the items looked ordinary alongside the packages of cereal, coffee filters and laundry soap.

She smiled. And that in itself was something new; it came easier to her. She thought about how some of the most ordinary things had taken on a different feel, a new luster. There was a shift in perspective that just happens when you rearrange your life to accommodate a partner. You notice things that you had never thought about before, such as how that scent in the morning was from his usual brand of shaving cream, and what kind of toothpaste you both liked. And how both he and Jane liked creamy peanut butter, while she liked chunky. She smiled again, looking at the big jar of creamy Jif she had just put in the cart. Some things didn't really matter.

And it wasn't like it was just her making the adjustments. Trent was basically a slob, but she had been raised in a relatively neat household. He was making an effort to pick up after himself, and so far hadn't lost any sandwiches under their bed. Actually sharing space with a partner was new to him too, and he seemed to not mind the adjustments. It even seemed like he enjoyed some of the changes.

She was running a quick mental inventory of the items they were still missing when Trent bent down and picked up a tightly folded fifty-dollar bill.

Cool, she thought, pizza money.

Only Trent, rather than looking pleased, was frowning.

Daria watched him, curious. He was looking around for the person who had lost it. After a moment, he approached a woman looking at a shopping list. She had a boy of about ten with her, and not much in her cart except for a bag of apples that were on sale and a dozen packs of cheap instant noodle soups.

He spoke quietly with her for a moment, and with a gasp she thrusts her hand in her jacket pocket. Trent smiled and handed her the fifty. She thanked him, almost in tears, and he walked back. The mother and son seem shocked, and very, very grateful.

Daria took his hand in hers.

"How did you know who to approach?" Daria wondered, since there were several people in the aisle.

"She looked kind of overworked, like a single parent, and her jacket was worn. Most people carry twenties, and people that don't have bank accounts carry larger bills. She was looking at an unfolded shopping list, so I thought that she had just pulled it out of her pocket and had dropped the fifty then. Besides, she looked like she really needed the money." Trent looked down into the cart. "I know what it's like to be broke and still have someone to feed."

Later on, I'm closing the trunk of the old Plymouth when I hear someone run up behind me. I turn, and the boy from the store shyly hands two apples to me. Pointing at Trent, who's returning the cart, he smiles. "Lady, your husband is a nice man."

Husband. I suppose it's not that strange; we've come to a level of comfort where we put a hand out and assume that the other will be there to grasp it. We've settled in to being a couple without being self conscious about it.

On the way home, my imagination starts up and I think about having kids. I'd like a daughter. We could gang up on Daddy. But that's a long way off; I still have to graduate. And there's that whole pregnancy thing, and childbirth. Somehow, though, it doesn't seem so crazy anymore. I think Trent would make a great husband. I know he'd make a great father; he was the one that practically raised Jane.

I don't know what kind of wife and mother I would make.

When did I start thinking like this?

"Trent?" Daria says, looking out the window of the car. "What if I got pregnant?"

He turned to look at her, and without hesitating, replied calmly. "Assuming your parents fail to kill me, I would ask you to marry me. You know I would. Then I'd panic, and then start looking for a job that paid better."

She turned to him and smiled. "Yeah, you would, wouldn't you?"

"It's easy enough to say, but I mean it. But it would kinda screw things up for us, aside from messing with your education. We'd have to figure out how to deal with daycare, so you could finish your degree. Between me working to support us, and your studies, it'd be tough. Janey would help out when she could, I'm sure, but it would be our responsibility. We'd figure something out."

"Just so you know, I'd carry a child to term if it happened. I couldn't bring myself to abort. And I would raise it myself if I had to."

"I know that. I'd feel the same way, but I would support you in whatever decision you would come to. I'm not abdicating responsibility, but ultimately the woman has the right to make the final decision. I would stand by you no matter what. You wouldn't be raising a kid on your own."

"Realistically, I'd have to postpone school until the child would be old enough to start preschool, at least. And the course load would have to be a lot lighter, so it would take a lot longer to graduate. And then, my career choices would be limited for years until said child was able to be a little more independent."

Trent was quiet for a long time.

"Boy or Girl?" he asked, while they waited at a light.

"Stop it." Daria sighed. "I'm not going to get pregnant. I don't want to marry you yet. It's just-" she looked out the window again. "I don't want to stop sleeping with you, but that woman and child in the store kind of brought a lot of things into focus. I don't know anything about her, but…"

"But she could have had a guy that said the same things I just said, and wound up on her own anyway?"

"Yes. No. That's not what I was going to say." Daria's voice rose, anger boiling to the surface. "No. I know you wouldn't ditch me. All I wanted to say was that life can get away from you. You just don't know what will really happen. You fall in love and you get into a relationship, and sometimes things will just get away from you. You just can't control life."

Trent glanced over at her, thoughtfully, as he drove.

"We keep going anyway, and do the best we can," he said. "You're not mad at me but you're upset."

"And I guess I need to let it out. Why can't you be an asshole sometimes so I can have an excuse to get mad at you?"

"I'll try." He chuckled as they pulled into the driveway. "I'll get these, Daria. Why don't you go inside and give your mom a call? I have a feeling that she would be more enlightening than I. I'm curious as to what she'd say."

She scowled. "Is this your asshole act?"

"No, I'm serious. Your mom must have thought about these very issues."

He nudged the trunk closed. She reached over and took a heavy bag from him, and unlocked the door. She set the bag on the kitchen counter alongside the rest, and gathered the few items to take to their bedroom. Before she left, she stepped over to him and gave him a little hug. She handed him one of the apples.

"A girl," she said quietly. "Someday, and I mean someday, I'd like a daughter. But a boy would be great too."

Trent smiled at her as she made her way to the bedroom. He began to put the groceries away.

Growing up wasn't as bad as he thought it would be.

Almost an hour later, he was sitting on the sofa with his guitar, jotting down a cool riff he just worked out. Daria walked up behind him, her reflection visible in the window in front of him. She held her phone out to him.

"You're in trouble now, Trent. Mom wants a word with you." He glanced at her as he took the phone. Her expression was unreadable as she retreated to the kitchen.

"Hello?" he said, with the slightest hint of worry.

Helen Morgendorffer laughed gently. "You poor man," she said, her smile audible over the phone. "I just had an interesting conversation with Daria. I admit she had me going at first and I had a sudden urge to get on a plane to Boston so I could strangle you in person. Then, it turns out that she just wanted to talk."

"She and I did talk about her getting pregnant," Trent replied calmly, "But I did think that you would have a better feel for it than I would. It's kinda funny how we got on to the subject."

"She filled me in. I just wanted to say that in all honesty, I wasn't sure about you two making it work over the long term, but now, I know. Thank you for taking care of her, Trent."

"Thanks, Mrs. M. Your daughter is a pretty amazing woman."

"You can call me Helen, Trent. Goodnight."

A cold beer appeared in Daria's hand. "Trade you for my phone."

The exchange was made, and she settled next to him on the couch.