A/N: This was requested on tumblr (anotheropti) as "Andy, 6 year old Jack, and 4 year old "baby" cuddle with and comfort April after a long day of work while she's on her period and feeling awful."
I'm... unsure what I want to do with NOLY. I love what's here, and I still have requests that I'll need to get to, but at the moment I'm more interested in attempting to write longform stories. I'm sure that will make many of you happy, but the frequency of fic will slow down (and already has) because of that!
Hours. Hours.
Hours don't really mean a lot until you can feel every second at work as infuriating as the last. Minutes between them, seconds within those, and they're all the worst. Sluggish, gross movements feel just like that - sluggish and gross. April can't even bother to move when she gets home. Washington is always so hot andhumid and makes her feel even more like a giant ball of slime.
April liked fake blood and liked playing with the idea of being a zombie. When she was a kid and first learned about what the hell a period was, she thought it'd be cool and that the blood would be awesome.
She was fucking wrong. So wrong she wants to beat the hell out of her past self and make her get ten or twelve of those weird, vibrating massage chairs.
"Hey babe?" Andy calls out, his void loud and rattling in her skull. "Sorry. Um, d'you want me to go out and get you some stuff?"
April looks over at him, Jack sprinting over and launching himself onto the couch beside her. The dull throb thankfully barely spikes when he does it, so she winces through a smile and nods to Andy.
"Would you?"
"Anything for the most awesome, amazing wife in the world. Most beautiful too. Definitely super pretty," he laughs and leaves her smiling at him, trying to ignore her headache and the general blegh in the air.
He's the best husband sometimes. Well that's not true. He's the best all the time, but sometimes he's actually perfect.
"Hey ma?" Jack prods her side, and good God that hurts.
"What's up?" she whispers, dropping her head on his and humming something to cancel out the furious noise in her brain.
"Dad said you're really tired this week," he shifts closer to her and suddenly two little arms are around her waist and the one behind her moves very slowly. "Said we should help you get better."
"Did he?" she chuckles. Andy even knows how to word it to his kids, and he's as amazing a teacher to their children as Johnny Karate should be. "What'd he say you guys should do?"
"Robbie's s'posed to paint your nails for you," he mumbles against her overly large sweatshirt. "With mud, or blood, or something."
"That's so sweet of you," she gets out before feeling a long, intense pain coursing through her entire lower body and melting any nerve it comes in contact with as it spreads.
She whimpers and Jack's little arm moves along her back awkwardly like he has no idea what to do. It's the thought that matters and April's feeling better already, at least in her head. The physical agony is still bordering on crippling, but she feels a little less like whole slimy, gross feeling is still everywhere and she probably needs to go to the bathroom but Andy isn't back from the store yet. However, she's snuggling with her son and there's something amazing and comfortable about that. It's not long before more footsteps come trundling along, a clink of bottles loud in the silence, and another body latches onto her.
"Hey bear," April mumbles, leaning over and kissing the top of Roberta's head.
The almost paralytic surge calms down until her voice is hoarse when it comes out and simply sitting there almost hurts. Then Roberta giggles from the little kiss and walks over to where April's feet are resting on the coffee table. Something about that little noise is oddly soothing, just like her kids right now. Whether Andy paid them off or what, she didn't care. She's without her slippers, hating how hot those are, and it's not long before those clinking bottles come into play.
When Andy returns, April's nodding off with Jack still hugging her and Robbie's efforts are obvious. Her toes aren't… well, they're technically painted, but going so far to say her toenails are done up is definitely not right. The strokes applied were clearly sloppy, running on her skin a little and her fingernails are somehow even worse. But it was fun, and Robbie liked doing it so who cares? April goes into work with that mess sometimes, and it's funny.
So she sits back in content, her kids at her side and each of them whispering something. Probably scary stories, judging by Roberta's wide eyes and Jack's extra deep tunneling into April's shirt.
"Hey guys, what's up?" he shakes the bag in his hand and April makes a groan of appreciation.
Standing up, almost catapulting herself across the room, April hungrily takes the bag and retreats to the bathroom.
"So… you guys did a good job but it's not over yet," Andy chuckles when she's walking away, April smiling to herself. "We still gotta cook, and you're gonna go hang out with Aunt Leslie for a couple hours…"