Chapter Text
“Oh, that’s a look I haven’t seen in a while,” Devon said, smiling at Mark over a cup of coffee. “You’re smitten.”
Mark smoothed the top of his hair over nervously. “We’ve only gone out a few times. I keep trying to make excuses to go to her office, I’m not getting any grading done.”
“Have you slept with her yet?”
Mark looked around the busy coffee shop. “Devon. Jesus.”
“So, yes?”
“Yes. Twice.”
“Did she sleep over?”
“Uh, I slept over at her place.”
Devon hummed and nodded. “This is good. This is really good for you. I was getting worried you’d end up having an affair with one of your students.”
Mark raised an eyebrow at her. “You really believe I’d do that?”
“I don’t know, Mark! The last woman you dated seriously was a decade ago, and if I recall correctly, she was very immature.”
“Well, Gemma’s not anything like Katie.”
“God, Katie. I hated her.”
“Thank goodness I only dated her for three years then, and we went on trips together and spent many evenings at your house and—”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Do you have a picture of Gemma?”
Mark pulled his phone out of his pocket and easily found a picture. He had been stalking Gemma’s Instagram since the day he met her; he had several of his favorite pictures of her saved to his camera roll.
Devon took his phone and zoomed in. “Jesus, Mark. She’s way too hot for you. How old is she?”
Mark winced. “Twenty-eight.”
“Alright, I’ll allow it. At least she's a consenting adult and a colleague. Wait, holy shit, she’s 28 and already a professor?”
“She’s really intense. Incredibly smart.”
“OK, well you need to introduce her to me ASAP. She needs to know you’re serious before someone else comes along and snatches her up.”
Mark smiled and took his phone back, looking at a couple of the pictures. He liked Gemma so much, he was terrified of fucking it up with her. He promised Devon he would introduce them very soon, and Devon told him she was proud of him and happy for him.
It felt like the beginning of something good.
Mark decides to tell Devon in person.
The morning after his marathon sex adventure with Helly, he wakes with his body aching and his head pounding. He’s on his side in bed, Helly curled up loosely behind him with one arm flung over his waist. He lifts her arm, kisses it, and gets up to go to the bathroom; she barely stirs.
He sends Devon a text while brushing his teeth, asking her if she can get breakfast with him.
Uh-oh, you haven’t asked for breakfast in ages, she texts back. Everything alright?
Yeah, just want to talk, is all Mark says back.
Mark gets ready, puttering around for a bit and hoping Helly will wake up on her own. When she doesn’t, he goes to her side of the bed and sets a key to his house on the nightstand. He puts a hand on her shoulder, and she sniffles awake, looking gorgeous with her hair a frizzy mess around her.
“Hi,” she says sweetly. “Sneaking out on me?”
“I’m going to get breakfast with my sister. I’ll bring you something home.”
“OK, sounds good.” She turns over and hugs her pillow, closes her eyes.
Mark bends over and kisses her brow before leaving.
Devon brings Eleanor to the diner, which is great because she can sit in Mark’s lap and be a calming presence for him.
“You look different,” Devon says, narrowing her eyes at him as they all settle into a booth. “You shaved. And did your hair kind of different.”
“I did.”
“Oh my god. You met someone, didn’t you? You went out after your birthday and you—”
“No. I told you I wasn’t—I’m not ready for all that.” He takes a deep breath. “And hopefully I’ll never have to be. I, um, have to tell you something.”
Devon’s face falls. “Oh, Jesus. It’s her, isn’t it? Helena? She stepped down as CEO and called you up, didn’t she? Didn’t she, Mark?”
Mark clings to Eleanor’s hips, steadying her and grounding himself. “Yeah, actually, that’s pretty much exactly it.”
Devon reaches across the table and hits him in the shoulder. “That’s why you look better! You got laid! Shit, Mark, you f—asshole!”
Mark forces himself to make eye contact with his sister. “I love her, Devon. I’ve loved her for a long time.”
Devon scoffs and shakes her head, looking away from him. “You know, when you felt yourself falling for her, you could’ve just not flirted with her. You could’ve, I don’t know, set some boundaries.”
“I did, actually. Eventually. It was too late then, though.”
“So, what? You love her? You’re going to be with her now? Gemma deserves—”
“She’s pregnant.”
A long silence hangs in the air, interrupted only by Eleanor banging a spoon on the table.
Devon eventually says, “So you did cheat.”
“Not…Gemma was gone—dead. Before we…”
“How pregnant is she, Mark?”
“Five months.”
“Oh. Great. Yeah. OK. I fucking knew it. I knew it, you asshole. So what, you’re going to be a new dad at 50 fucking years old?”
Mark clings to Eleanor to stop his own rage from bubbling up. “You didn’t seem too worried about that when Gemma and I were trying. I know this makes me a piece of shit, I know that, Devon. But this wasn’t some random hookup or—”
“It would’ve been better if it was! Then at least I could understand—”
“She was my best friend! God, she’s—I don’t know, Devon. You’re going to have to get used to this, because she’s having my child and she’s staying in my life.”
Their food arrives. They sit in awkward silence while the server sets their plates in front of them, then Devon pretends like Mark isn’t there while she puts Eleanor in a high chair and sets up a small plate of finger foods for her.
“Whatever you have to do to get over this, do it,” Mark says before picking up a piece of bacon and shoving half of it in his mouth. “You have four months to figure out how to be happy for me that I’m finally going to be something I’ve wanted for my entire adult life.”
Devon just stares at him. Mark angrily eats his food, switching from bacon to pancake to coffee in quick succession.
“You’re not going to say anything? Really?” Mark asks.
Devon blinks. “This is the first time I’ve seen you actually eat since Gemma died.”
Derisively, Mark says, “Yeah. Imagine that.”
Mark and Helly are organizing stuff from her storage unit and rearranging everything in Mark’s house when Devon calls and invites them over for dinner.
“Really?” Mark asks, a little meanly.
“Really,” Devon answers, also meanly.
“Huh. OK.”
During the car ride over, Mark is nervous, more jittery than usual. Helly puts a hand on his thigh and tells him to calm down.
“How are you calm about this?” Mark asks her. “You’re the one she’s going to be fuming at all night.”
“Your sister cornered me at Gemma’s funeral to ask if you and I were having an affair. I’ll be fine.”
“She did what?”
“Shh, shh, it’s alright, Mark. We hadn’t fucked in a week at that point, so I had other things to worry about.”
Mark breathes a laugh. “You missed my penis that badly, huh?”
Helly’s hand inches up toward his inseam, deliberate. “What did you do that week? Before her funeral.”
“Um.” Mark swallows and tightens his hand on the steering wheel. “I started making boxes. I—I knew I had to get rid of—pack her stuff.”
Her hand moves between his legs, ghosting over his fly. Why the fuck did he wear jeans? “Why didn’t you call me?”
“Uh, guilt. Shame. Spent a whole day crying and then couldn’t get it up on my own. I kept trying, you know, to get some endorphins to block the pain, but…I don’t know, my dick wouldn’t work.”
Helly cups his crotch, bringing him to half-mast in the confines of his jeans. “It seemed just fine at work the next week.”
“I got hard at the funeral, when you hugged me,” Mark admits, voice strained. “Jesus, I wanted to—I wanted to take you home. Tear off your black dress.”
“God, I hate how wet that makes me,” Helly says, matching his wrecked tone as she moves her hand in an agonizing line over his crotch. “Maybe we shouldn’t get married. Maybe we should find someone else you can marry and then you can cheat on her with me.”
An unexpected laugh punches out of Mark. “You’re insane.”
“And you’re hard.”
Mark moves his right hand to the back of her head, cupping her neck and messing up her hair. “We’re almost there. Stop touching me.”
Helly’s hand stills. “What are you going to do? Show up at your sister’s hard?”
“I’d rather that than have a come stain on my pants.”
Helly presses harder against him, and Mark moves his hand to hers and forcefully shoves her away. He says, “Later. Keep it in your pants.”
“Oooh, bossy.”
Mark makes a mental note to spank her when they get home.
At his sister’s, Mark clings to Helly’s hand and adjusts himself in his pants as they walk up to the door. Helly squeezes his hand and plasters a smile on her face. Mark checks her out. She’s wearing skinny jeans tucked into a pair of black high-heeled boots and an oversized gray sweater that falls off of one shoulder and clings slightly to her belly. Mark doesn’t know much, but he knows she’s completely out of style. Gemma always kept up with that kind of stuff, changing her wardrobe seemingly every few months to match the changing times. Skinny jeans turned to wide-legged pants, blouses into crop tops. Helly, it seems, does not care.
“Mark!” Ricken says enthusiastically when he opens the door, yanking Mark into a hug, breaking his hand away from Helly’s. “So happy to see you again so soon. And you must be Helena. I’ve heard nothing but rumors about you, so it will be a pleasure to learn the real thing.”
Ricken shakes Helly’s hand warmly between two hands, and Mark realizes in that moment that he loves his brother-in-law.
Ricken leads them into the house, and Mark sets the bowl of salad they brought on the kitchen counter. Devon is at the stove cooking pasta, so Mark leans over to press a kiss to her temple to say hello.
“Hi, yes, muah,” Devon says, staying focused on her work. “Bring me a pot holder, please.”
Mark grabs a pot holder from a drawer and hands it over to Devon, then he leans back against a counter and watches her prep the food.
Ricken engages Helly in conversation, asking about her pregnancy and how she’s doing, then comparing her to Devon and providing way too intimate of details about Eleanor’s gestation.
Mark makes eye contact with Helly to make sure she’s OK, and Helly gives him a small smile, so Mark winks at her and goes to the baby swing by the kitchen table to play with Eleanor.
“Helena, will you help me set the table?” Devon asks after a few minutes. “We’re going to eat out on the deck.”
“Sure,” Helly says, looking to Mark for reassurance.
Mark gives her a lame thumbs up and picks up Eleanor to put her to bed. He kisses the top of her head and carries her to her room, glad to have a few minutes alone with her to try to relax.
“You’re going to have a cousin,” Mark says softly as he sets her on the floor between his legs and waits for her to reach for a book. “You’ll love her, trust me.”
Eleanor gets a board book and tries to open it upside down. Mark flips it over for her and they hold it together while he reads it to her. They make it through two and a half books like this before Ricken appears in the doorway and whispers that dinner will be ready in five, so Mark changes Eleanor’s diaper and puts a onesie on her and bounces her against his shoulder for a couple minutes before setting her in her crib.
Helly sits perpendicular to Mark at the table for dinner, and while she looks perfectly at ease, things are tense. Devon seems on edge, staring at her plate of food as she eats and letting Ricken lead the conversation.
They don’t really talk about anything real, but Ricken’s usual bullshit doesn’t bother Mark as much since it works as a distraction from the elephant in the room. Mark ends up imitating his sister, staring at his food as he pokes at it. Helly’s foot finds his leg under the table, her toes slowly creeping up his calf and then back down again while she keeps her eyes on Ricken.
Before coming over, they had agreed not to be too intimate in front of Devon and Ricken, to keep a physical barrier between them. Mark is grateful for her clandestine touch, but he longs to put his hand on her knee, wrap his arm around her shoulder, draw her close to him.
“So, Helena, are you moving in with my brother?” Devon asks.
Helly’s foot keeps moving against Mark’s leg. “We’ve been working on it. We want to move before the baby’s born.”
“What’s wrong with Mark’s place?”
“Are you serious, Devon?” Mark asks, a bit aggressive. “The house I moved into to get away from memories of my wife is not somewhere I want to raise my child.”
“It’s also the house where you started healing, where you got sober.”
“I started getting sober here. If you recall, I also ended up in the hospital twice from trying to drink myself to death in that house, so I’m not exactly sure what your point is.”
Helly puts her hand over top of Mark’s on the table and looks at him kindly, saying in a soft tone, “At least we’ve made some good memories there, though.”
Devon’s legs slam into the underside of the table as she gets to her feet. She glares at Mark and Helly and says, “I’m getting dessert.”
After she’s gone, Ricken says, “I apologize for her. Sincerely. She’ll…learn to adjust. It takes time.” He then follows her inside.
Mark turns to Helly and huffs a humorless laugh. “Maybe this was too soon.”
Helly pushes a lock of hair out of his face and leans closer to him. “She asked me if this is really what I want in life, if I purposely sabotaged my life and yours just to be with a man twice my age.”
Mark rolls his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
Helly puts her hand on his shoulder and rubs it soothingly, moving down his bicep. “I told her I didn’t have much of a life and that any reason to get away from Lumon is a good one; I’m just lucky that I had a really good reason.”
Mark smiles and leans forward to kiss her. He puts a hand on her knee like he wanted to earlier, his other hand on her face, and they kiss gently for a minute.
“It was really hot watching you with Eleanor,” Helly says. “I definitely think we can try the ‘daddy’ thing again.”
They laugh and kiss again, then they whisper stupid shit to each other with their heads together, hands intertwined over Helly’s knee. Devon and Ricken come back out with dessert, and Mark and Helly break apart. Mark keeps his hand on her knee, though.
Devon is noticeably less tense as the evening goes on. She joins in the conversation and acts cordial toward Helly, and Mark feels comfortable enough to scoot closer to Helly and drape an arm across the back of her chair. He crosses his ankle over his knee, and Helly puts a hand lazily on his thigh, leaning into his side.
As it gets late enough to leave, Eleanor cries over the baby monitor. Mark gets up and insists that he can help her.
As he’s rocking her and soothing her back to sleep in the quiet dark of her room, Devon comes in and stands in the doorway.
“You really love her, don’t you?” Devon asks.
“Who, Eleanor? Obviously.”
“No, idiot. Helena.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
“You two…when Ricken and I went inside, you guys were…”
Mark scoffs at her. “You were spying on us, is that what you’re saying?”
“Well, yes. I haven’t seen you like that. You were never like that with Gemma.”
“Like what?”
Devon shifts from one foot to the other. “I don’t know, just different. Goofy, comfortable.”
“You don’t think I was comfortable with Gemma?”
“Not like you are with her. It’s different. Like you’re completely on the same page.”
Mark nuzzles Eleanor and makes sure she’s asleep before settling her back in her crib.
“You were always on your best behavior with Gemma,” Devon continues as they walk down the hall together. “I forgot what you’re like when you’re just…you.”
Mark stops and turns toward her. “She’s good for me, Devon. Really good.”
Devon looks a little sad as she nods. “OK. I believe you.”
Ricken and Helly are sitting in the living room laughing and drinking mugs of tea when Devon and Mark come in. Ricken immediately gets up to tend to the kettle, and Mark goes to Helly, sitting halfway on the armrest of her chair. She leans closer to him and puts her hand on his lower back, rubbing it.
“I’m glad you don’t mind getting up to help a crying baby,” Helly says quietly.
“Seeing how heavy of a sleeper you are these days, I figure I’d better get used to it,” Mark replies.
Devon clears her throat and takes a seat on the couch across from them. “Mark, did you tell Helena what you told me on your birthday?”
Mark tilts his head, thinking. Then he turns to Helly and says, “Oh. No, I forgot.”
“You’re keeping things from me already?” Helly jokes.
Mark grins at her. “We’ve been a little busy.”
Ricken bustles into the room and hands a mug to Mark and then to Devon before sitting on the couch next to her.
Mark continues, “Uh, I have a couple job interviews lined up.”
“Oh, really? That’s good, right?” Helly says, pushing her hand up under the hem of Mark’s shirt to rub his back skin-to-skin.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s good,” Mark says, convincing himself. “You know, I got insurance money when…you know, and then I got a nice severance package from Lumon, but it’s time to, um, figure something out.”
“I was personally notified about your resignation from MDR,” Helly says, looking up at him. “Seems like you could’ve waited longer than a day after I became CEO, you know, to avoid some suspicion, but it didn’t surprise me.”
“Were they really that suspicious about it?” Mark asks.
Helly shrugs. “I may have been warned and, um, chastised a number of times over the course of two years in MDR.”
Mark can’t help but laugh.
“Oh, that’s funny to you?” Devon says, eyebrow arched. “Flirting with a married man so blatantly that you get punished at work is funny to you?”
“Yeah,” Helly answers without flinching. “Cobel threw a mug at my head one time.”
“Dylan told me it’s not the same down there without us,” Mark says.
“You talk to him?” Helly asks.
“Yeah, every once in a while. We used to get a beer together before I got sober.”
“Anyway, Helena, what do you plan on doing?” Devon asks. “Stay-at-home mom?”
“Oh sure, that sounds lovely. I actually have several legal battles I have to fight against my father’s company, so that will keep me busy for a while. I got my personal inheritance after his death, though, so even though I’m not Lumon rich anymore, I’m still regular rich.”
“Really?” Mark asks.
Helly looks up at him and nods like he’s an idiot.
As the night wears on, Devon loses her attitude after she realizes Helly doesn’t budge. Mark feels weirdly proud of his—his what? Girlfriend isn’t the right term, and neither is baby mama. Fiancé? Best friend? Whatever the case, he’s proud of Helly for standing her ground and steadfastly staking her claim on Mark.
Mark grows restless after he finishes his tea. Helly notices and gestures for him to sit next to her in the armchair, but there’s not enough space and he can’t sit half on top of her lap because of her pregnant belly. She gets up then and tells him to sit his ass in the armchair, then she plops down, half on top of his lap.
A warmth fills Mark at her touch. He automatically wraps an arm around her, settling his hand on her opposite hip. The conversation continues, and Devon only glares at where they’re joined two or three times.
After the second time Helly yawns, Mark taps her hip and says gently, “Ready to go, Mama?”
Helly nods and hops up, reaching back for his hand. They say their goodbyes to Devon and Ricken, and Devon only says one patronizing comment on their way out, referring to Mark as “Papa” while she hugs him.
In the car, Mark leans over and kisses Helly squarely on the lips, holding her neck in his hand.
“Thank you,” he says when he pulls away.
She rubs his knee and says, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
Her hand moves higher up his leg, her body leaning closer across the console. “For so readily accepting me as yours, for thinking I’m important enough to meet your sister.”
“Jesus, Helly, of course. Don’t be dense.”
Helly’s hand moves to his crotch, her face to his neck. She licks at his skin then bites down gently. Her hand brings him to hardness again just like earlier.
Mark groans low in the back of his throat and turns his head to capture her mouth. They make out for several seconds, the time dragging on.
Then there’s a knock on the window, and Mark jumps. Helly barely flinches, just smoothly removing her hand from inside his thighs and sitting back in the passenger seat.
When Mark rolls down his window, Devon hands him his phone and says, “No handjobs in my driveway, for god's sake.”
As she walks away, Helly says loudly, “Blowjobs are fair game though?”
Devon flips her the bird over her shoulder.
Mark laughs and starts driving, eager to get home. Helly moves her hand back to his thigh, but Mark intertwines their fingers together and holds her hand in place.
At home, Mark drags Helly inside and shoves her up against the front door to kiss her.
“You’ve been blue-balling me all night,” Mark says against her mouth.
“Oh yeah, what are you going to do about it?”
Mark drops his pants to the floor and then reaches for hers, pushing them down before he hikes her up, settling her around his hips and shoving her harder against the wall. He pushes into her raw, making her gasp against his neck. She’s tight but wet enough that it won’t hurt her, so he rocks his hips forward and back until she relaxes, then he thrusts harder, faster.
“Ah, Mark—fuck,” Helly cries, burying her face in his neck.
“That’s it, baby. Hold on.”
He pushes deeper, pulling another cry out of her.
Then, Helly clenches around him and makes a noise that isn’t familiar, and Mark immediately stutters then resets the pace.
“Fuck,” Helly says. “Wait, fuck. Stop, stop—”
“What? Is that a real stop or—”
“A real stop!”
Mark immediately stills but keeps holding her up. “Helly, are you OK?”
She squeezes her eyes shut and clings to him. “No. Fuck. My head.”
“Baby, what’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. Oh, fuck, I feel like I’m going to pass out.”
Acting quickly, Mark carefully pulls out of Helly, then he wraps an arm around her back and the other around her head and carries her to the couch, laying her down gently.
“Did I hurt you?” Mark asks softly.
“No, you didn’t do anything wrong, Mark,” Helly says, her eyes closed. “Oh, fuck. Ow.” She drops a hand to her pregnant belly and presses against it, up near her ribs.
“OK, we’re going to the hospital,” Mark decides.
“No, baby, I don’t need to—”
“Helly, I’m not losing anoth—I’m not going through this with you. We’re going.”
Helly sighs. “I really have blue-balled you tonight.”
Mark doesn’t laugh; he can’t. His only focus is getting Helly into his car and to the E.R.
He puts on his hazards and speeds, even though the roads are mostly empty and Lumon owns the police force. Mark figures if they get pulled over, Helly could just use the name Eagan, and they would let them on their way.
“You’re being awfully quiet,” Helly says from the passenger seat, her voice a bit strained with pain.
“Not a big talker when I’m worried,” Mark replies robotically.
Helly lets a pause hang in the air for several long seconds, then she says, “Are you still hard?”
Mark swallows a laugh. “No, Helly, I’m not still hard.”
She drops a hand to his thigh and rubs it gently. “Baby, it’s going to be OK.”
“Stop ‘baby’-ing me just because I’m upset.”
“Baby. Sweetie. Honey. Love of my life.”
“Stop—Gemma used to say that one.”
Helly’s hand stills on his leg. “Love of my life?”
“Yeah, when she was making fun of me she’d say it like you just did.”
“Well, you were the love of her life. You’re actually probably not the love of mine, since I’ll definitely outlive you.”
“Helly, I can hear the pain in your voice. Stop trying to make me laugh.”
“Fine, geez. You’re boring.”
He puts his hand over top of hers and squeezes it, then, with his eyes still on the road, he brings her hand to his lips and presses a kiss to her knuckles.
At the hospital, Mark insists on Helly sitting in the waiting area while he checks them in. He accidentally tells the patient intake clerk that Helly is his wife, then doesn’t correct himself. It’s true enough.
They get triaged quickly, which makes Mark nervous that it’s something serious. Helly reassures him that the waiting room just wasn’t all that busy, and Mark feels like a piece of shit that his sick wife is the one reassuring him instead of the other way around.
Wait, not wife. Fuck.
The nurse checks Helly’s blood pressure and then says nothing before leaving the room and returning immediately with the doctor.
It takes about five minutes for Helly to be diagnosed with preeclampsia. They prescribe her blood pressure medication and tell her to avoid stress and to get a blood pressure monitor and check it daily and to call her OB/GYN to schedule prenatal visits more frequently, and Mark grabs Helly’s hand while the doctor talks. He needs something to ground himself.
The doctor then asks if they have any questions, and Mark and Helly look at each other for a moment before Mark turns back to the doctor and asks, “Should she be on bedrest?”
“No, I don’t think that’s necessary at this point,” she replies. “Just avoid anything too strenuous, and drink plenty of water.”
“What about sex?” Helly asks.
“Jesus Christ, Helly,” Mark says under his breath, embarrassed.
The doctor gives an amused smile. “You can have sex.” She moves to the door and puts her hand on the handle as she says, “And Dad, you can take a breath now. She and the fetus are OK.”
Mark and Helly take a second in the clinic room after the doctor has left. Mark looks at Helly sheepishly and says, “I’m sorry.”
She swings their hands back and forth between them. “You really don’t even try to hide your worst from me, do you?”
“No, it never even crosses my mind to do so.”
“And I love that about you, but baby, you should try to be a little better about controlling your emotions.”
He kisses her knuckles again. “What if I’m bad luck, though? Your pregnancy’s been fine and then the second you show back up in my life, it goes to shit? You don’t find that odd?”
Helly shrugs. “Sure, but I don’t care. Even if you had the worst luck, I still choose you.”
“Ugh, cut that romantic shit.”
Helly smiles at him and pulls him to his feet, then she hugs her arms around his waist, pressing her pregnant belly to his middle. “No. I love you.”
Mark kisses the top of her head. “I actually kind of like you calling me ‘baby.’”
When they get back home later, they don’t have sex. Helly acts like she still wants to, but she doesn’t push the issue, likely because she knows how distraught Mark was and that he definitely won’t be in the mood until he feels less stressed.
In bed, Mark curls up behind Helly and wraps a protective arm across her belly. He kisses her neck and whispers goodnight to her then settles in close.
Helly’s phone buzzes; she grabs it from the nightstand.
“Shit,” she says.
“Hmm?” Mark asks.
Helly holds the phone up, showing him the screen. Mark can’t read the text, but he sees a blurry picture of Helly in a pantsuit likely taken when she was the Lumon CEO.
“What’s it say? I don’t have my glasses,” Mark says.
Helly snorts a laugh. “Right. It’s a news article. Headline says, ‘Former Lumon CEO Helena Eagan pregnant and at the hospital with unknown older man.’”