"You know, I've wanted this for a long time."

It hadn't been boredom, definitely not. If anything, she'd call it planned recklessness – the level of which she's still a little unsure of.

And it's not like she'd tricked him into it, or even had to do much convincing. He'd even been a little too eager, maybe. (Not that she blames him.)

They'd been in his living room, alone and unsupervised; his sisters out and his parents away. It's not like there was much else to do that day, anyway. Her soap operas sucked and his breath smelt of minty fresh Tic Tacs and there was no way she wasn't going through with it.

(It's not like she'd intended to have sex right there in his living room, with the evening sun seeping through the cracks in the blinds, with the television on mute.)

(It's not like she'd planned to kiss him and have him wait – in all his scrawny pride and glory – in that damn chair as she undressed.)

(It's not like she'd intended to drop her panties to the floor with a blush and a gasp – or even like she'd wanted to – and she definitely hadn't planned on having to crawl into his lap and straddle him.)

It had just happened, and…

"I know." She'd told him, her hands winding around his neck as her forehead pressed into his, "I could sense it."

Brown curls kept falling in her face, and she'd tried brushing them away at first, tucking her hair behind her ears. But eventually his lips had moved from her neck to her mouth, and her own had been plump against his, and she'd suddenly been too distracted to give a shit.

He'd been all pale skin and black hair, warm eyes and wide smile, and goddamn it, she'd lost herself in him.

She'd been long gone by the time he kissed her neck and whispered a soft, "My wizard."

"Well, well, well. If it isn't everyone's favorite teen mom." Steve leans over the counter, hands thumping on the glass surface. He picks up an M&M from the awfully scratched metal bowl beside the till, flicks it in her direction. "You here for another test, mamasita?"

El dodges the sweet, eyes rolling before they settle on his hands, distracting herself, "I think the last one was broken."

"Third test today, squirt. Your Eggo's definitely preggo, no doubt about it." Steve pushes his hair back with one hand, the other still rummaging through the bowl of peanut chocolates, "Maybe your baby daddy's got super swimmers for sperm. Varsity, right?" He plops a handful of the M&Ms in his mouth, wide open as he chews them just to tick her off a little bit more.

(Boyfriend, no.) (Varsity, yes.)

She stops herself from pulling a face, instead choosing to fold her arms over her chest and do the same with her legs. Damn, that was a lot of liquid. "I just drank half my weight in milk, so, unless you want me to breathe on you-"

"You know where the lav is." Steve reaches back, the wheels of the old office chair he's propped a sneaker up on squeaking as it slides across the tiled floor. He grabs the restroom key from a shelf, circling his fingers through the big hoop before he hands it over to her.

"Thanks, big guy." El snatches the over-sized wooden plaque from his hand, the two keys on the ring jingling as she hurries over to the back of the store, rubber soles of her Converse loud.

"And don't forget to pay for that pee-stick, champ. I don't need my boss asking me why I'm running a family planning centre out of his break-room."

Ignoring him, El slips the door to the restroom open with ease, having done so twice already that morning. She locks the door, tosses the gigantic keyring down into the shabby little sink before she shuts herself in the small cubicle.

Once the lid is pulled up and she's untucked her sweater from the waist of her jeans, she sits her self down on the toilet. She forces her legs close together for a moment as she tears into the box, ripping the already frayed edges of the pale purple packaging.
El spreads her legs a little, positions herself in such a way that the stick can be held quite steadily below her crotch without her having to get pee on herself.

When she's sure it's wet (not ready), she pulls the stick away, waves it up and down a tad before plopping it back down on top of the box it came out of.

After peeing (like, really, peeing), and readjusting her clothes, she washes her hands, grabs the damn stick and kicks the restroom door open.

Steve's still out front, but he's watching the doorway where some blonde girl has just walked out, clearly admiring her ass.

He whips back around when he hears her in the cold drinks fridge, and there's a grin on his face when as she approaches reaches the counter, sliding a box of Eggos over the glass. He seems to take that as a sign.

"Ring me up." She eyes him carefully out of one eye, still focusing on the white stick in her left hand.

"What's the prognosis, champ? Up the duff and down in the dumps or what?"

"I don't know yet, it's still- Nope." Three minutes must be up because there's a plus sign where she'd hoped for a minus, "Crap."

Steve picks up the box of waffles, using them as an excuse to peer closer and read the result, too. "Yeah, that ain't no bun that can be un-baked, young grasshopper." He nods, bumps her elbow with his clenched fist, "Your positivity ain't exactly on par with that stick's. Not that I blame you. It's so..."

"Unholy?"

"I was gonna say urine-covered."

"Thanks for the King." El gestures down to the fast food bag ripped open on the hood of Max's car. Burgers and fries and two sodas.

The redhead shrugs, gazing off into the distance. She curls her legs up under her, shorts riding up her thighs and El watches as her skin shivers from the cool air.

"You wanna hear something depressing?"

"Go for it."

"I'm pregnant."

"Shit, for real?"

"Yeah. Yeah, for real, and it's totally Wheeler's."

"Yikes." She slurps at her soda, the straw reaching the bottom of the cup, "Are you sure you didn't just eat too much at lunch yesterday? It's probably a food baby. Put too much mayonnaise on those earthy french fries." She slams her cup down, toys with the straw between her fingertips.

"No, it's not, because I took like three tests and none of them showed a little spud baby." El tells her, leaning back against the hood, "It's like a proper person." She glances down, reaching for the wrapped burger rather than her belly.

"Not yet." Max points out, chewing at her bottom lip. She tosses her hair behind her shoulders."

"You're oddly chill about this."

"Wait, I didn't think you- Dude, you're serious?" Max's eyes widen and she sits up, the heels of her shoes slipping from the hood, kicking her legs out straight.

"Yeah, it's all very un-tubular." El's brows knit but she smiles when Max lets out an 'oh my god!'.

Turning to face face her, Max smirks, "What was it like boning Wheeler's bony bod?" She snorts at her own question, hides her mouth by holding up a couple of ketchup-dipped fries.

"Magnificent."

"Oh, geez."

"Yeah."

"What are you gonna do about it though? Do you want me to call Planned Parenthood? Because I had to do that for Stacy when her balls dropped and she hung up mid-appointment?"

"No, I'm just gonna let it stew for awhile. Besides, you need a parents' note for that."

"Get Lucas to fake one."

"Maybe." El seems to consider it for a second, eyes downcast on the gravel beneath the car, "I need your help with something."

"What?"

"Look, you know I'd help you bury a body if I had to, but why the hell are we doing this?" Max huffs, blowing a strand of hair from out of her face.

"You wouldn't understand."

"Fine." She sighs, follows the brunette as she steps into a dry patch of grass, lowering herself down to drop the La-Z-Boy.

"How did this even happen? I mean, I know you say he's magnificent. But, what, did you get bored one day and decide to bang the golden child of the cul-de-sac, glove-free?"

"It was premeditated."

"The bambino?"

"The faux boredom."

"What, and you screwed him in… Ew." Max rubs her hands down her sides, flapping them around. "How long ago did you plan this?"

"I didn't planned this. I planned, you know," El shrugs, smiling slightly, "Like, two years ago."

"You love him?"

"I'm in a fragile state of mind right now so you can't ask me that."

"You love him." Max snickers until she feels one of the chair cushions whack her over the back of the head, "Dude!"

"Shut up."

"Whatever." She shakes her head, throws an arm around El's shoulders, "I don't know what this is but it seems fittingly nerdy."

"Hey."

"Hi." Mike walks across the front slowly, one hand wrapped around the strap of his sports bag.

"Your sweater's really green today." El informs him, nodding in his direction. She lifts her hand up to her face, takes a bite of the uncooked Eggo between her fingers.

Mike glances down at the sweater beneath his hoodie, the green and white stripes bright and bold, even more so than usual (because that's apparently possible). "Yeah, my mom uses color safe bleach."

"Go Karen."

"Yeah." He tugs at the zipper of his hoodie, eyeing her closely, "Hey. Uh, why is- Why is my dad's chair out here?"

"Recognize it, huh?" El's eyebrow raise as she taps the arms of the chair repeatedly, smile wide. She uncrosses her legs, leaning back in the La-Z-Boy.

Mike pulls a face, confusion clear on his face, "I mean you stole it out of my living room so, you know, yeah." He shrugs, pulls his backpack closer as his sports bag sways in his other hand. "What is this, El? I have practice."

"Guess what?"

"I don't, uh…" His shoulders rise and fall and he frowns, "What? I don't know." There's a smile working its way onto his face though - and she's pretty sure it's gonna drop soon.

There's a pause then, and she looks everywhere but at his face, "I'm kinda pregnant." El takes another bite of the Eggo, eyes moving up to stare at him suddenly, brown and wide and- Shit.

Yeah, any hint of a smile is gone. The corners of his mouth turn down, but his lips remain parted. He gulps, swallowing the heaviest breath she's probably ever seen him inhale, "What are we gonna do?"

The bag in his hand falls to the ground then, and she's honestly tempted to laugh at the cliché. Mike steps closer to her, slow and unsteady.

"I was gonna just, you know, deal with it the way we unholy folk do. Because, well, I don't really want the baby that comes with the pregnancy."

"Right, yeah. I mean, when my mom got pregnant, she had my little sister so.. I guess that's typically what happens." He nods, mostly to himself (she can tell).

His face is damn near unreadable though and El furrows her brow, leaning up on her elbows in the chair. "Is that good with you?"

Mike's eyes widen and he just gapes at her. He seems to ingest in her words for a moment or so, and then he nods (again), with a slow blink "Whatever you think is best."

"Right. Yeah." El stands up then, and she sighs, "It was a dumb idea to have sex in the first place." There's a slight shrug to her shoulders as she picks up her bag and the box of Eggos at her feet.

She's by his mailbox by the time he finally asks, "Whose idea was it?"

"See you in school." She waves at him quickly, face clear of any expression.

Shit.

Mike just watches as she goes, hurrying down the path until she rounds a corner. He grips his backpack tighter in his fist, cheeks flushed from either the cool air or surprise (he can't decide).

"Whose idea was it?"