Unspoken

[elucreh.livejournal.com]

TITLE: Unspoken
AUTHOR: Elucreh
RATING: PG
SUMMARY: The subject doesn't even come up when Molly goes to college.
A/N: I noticed there were very few future-fics being written, and somehow the bunny just wouldn't leave me alone. It's not my fault domesticity is my dearest kink!



The subject doesn't even come up when Molly goes to college.

After all, she'll be home pretty often—they both know that. Between her birth parents and the narrow escapes over the years, Molly prefers to have them within touching distance. They've agreed to try to encourage her to step beyond their small "special" circle, to reach out and make ordinary friends, but each is secretly glad to know she'll be there at least every other weekend, healthy or not. And if it means they don't have to admit they share Molly's paranoia, so much the better.

So they spend the first few weeks scrupulously cleaning up after themselves and avoiding their everyday irritants, and by the time they finally break down and have a fight over the few dishes in the sink the tension's built so high it takes them half an hour to work it out of their systems. So? Nobody's brought it up, and nobody's going to.

*~*~*

They have tried twice each to have a relationship. When Molly was ten, Mohinder dated a woman he'd saved from the disease. It came out that she didn't like children, and that was the end of that. When Molly was twelve, Matt started seeing a fellow cop. He was thinking about bringing her home when someone in a ski mask came out from behind the counter in a gas station, and shot her in the chest. When Molly was eighteen, a literal contortionist and Mohinder spent several satisfactory weeks together before he brought her home to meet Molly, and her role as a spy from the stubborn remnants of the Company came flying out of her head. (They had needed a bigger apartment anyway.) When Molly was twenty, Matt met a woman at the grocery who was impressed by his knowledge of spices. Of course, it soon came out that he couldn't cook.

When Molly graduates and moves to an apartment while she works on her master's, Matt stops going to bars alone, and Mohinder's manner with his patients and research subjects stops being flirty, no matter how pretty they are.

*~*~*

Molly moves back for a while after she finishes her master's, looking for a real job and helping in the ethnic grocery Mohinder's been sending Matt to for years while she sends out resumes. She was in high school when she started coaxing Mohinder to teach her his native language, tired of the adults talking over her head when Daadima visited, tired of wandering the open markets she loved in India and not being able to understand much more than the bargaining prices. Now that and her parents' good loyal customer status have guaranteed her the job opening, and she spends long hours weighing out vegetables and measuring spices.

They're glad to have her back with them, but it takes some adjusting. Naturally, it is Molly's job to snuggle up against Matt when he comes home, worn from a long day of people being horrible to each other. Naturally, Molly will discuss Mohinder's research with him, and Matt won't say much. These are long-established patterns.

Perhaps they had to establish new patterns in Molly's absence: Mohinder's few small circles rubbed on Matt's back as he sat with his head in his hands, waiting for Matt to gather his strength, to shake off the violence of his job; Matt's creased brow and slowly-spoken questions leading Mohinder down the path he can only dimly see. But those were changes of necessity, filling in a hole that isn't there any more.

Neither of them speaks of the relief of Saturday nights, when Micah swings by to take Molly out with their friends—of the grateful ease with which they bump around each other in the kitchen, Matt taking Molly's place as sous chef; and back-and-forth argue about Bennett's new policies at the Petrelli Foundation; and snatch the remote from one another until the news, when they settle side by side.

*~*~*

Matt thumps down in his chair with a groan. "I know she's taller than I am, but did she have to try to lead?"

Mohinder grins at him, reaching over to pat him on the arm in mock-sympathy. "There, there, officer. It's not as though you know how."

Matt glares, and Mohinder relents. "Look at it this way—she led with me, too, and I'm taller than she is."

"Thank god Molly won't be living near her mother-in-law. I'd be even more terrified of letting her go."

"She's a scary woman...but Micah can handle her, Matt. Don't worry too much."

"Mohinder, she tried to kill me."

"That was years ago. Nobody's seen Jessica in nearly that long. Calm down."

Matt sighs and shifts in his seat. "I'm just—this is the end, you know? She's all the way grown up. She's happy and healthy. She has a career and a husband. There's nothing more we can do. She doesn't need us anymore."

"Molly will always need you, Matt--"

"I know. I know she will. I'm just--"

"Matt?" Both of them look up at the pretty little brunette approaching their table, and Mohinder's hand tightens on Matt's arm.

"Helen. I'm so glad you could make it. Mohinder, you remember Helen?"

"From the medal ceremony, yes." Mohinder has his polite mask on, and Matt shoots him a puzzled look.

Helen runs a hand up Matt's arm. "You, um, wanna dance?"

Matt can see Mohinder slump ever-so-slightly as he withdraws his hand, and reflexively, he grabs it. "I—uh—maybe later?"

She eyes their hands narrowly, and then shrugs. "Sure." But she walks away without looking back.

When Matt turns to Mohinder, he's being looked at with wide eyes. He looks a question back. Slowly, giving him time to pull away, Mohinder raises their hands to his mouth and presses open lips to Matt's skin. A spark shivers down Matt's arm, and he tugs Mohinder closer.

*~*~*

Molly, dancing with Bennett, glances over at her fathers, who are watching her. Mohinder's head is on Matt's shoulder, Matt's hand resting possessively on Mohinder's hip.

Both of them are smiling, and she smiles back.