Ford was looking at Macnair while he was looking at the carpet. It was strange how the tables had turned; of the two of them, Ford had never expected to be the stronger one. Macnair still didn't get it, though, and his response made that obvious. He didn't understand what Ford was saying about the inevitability of it all. Maybe he would realize it when the baby actually came, or maybe not. Maybe it just wasn't the sort of thing he'd understand. Maybe they were fundamentally different in that way, and their ways of looking at the world were too misaligned to find a peaceable solution. If that was the case, then of course Macnair would think Ford was choosing this. He'd probably think so no matter what Ford said, and no matter how much time passed. Ford certainly didn't feel as though he had a choice in this — if he'd had a choice he wouldn't have felt like he was being dragged through the last two months with no will of his own — but he couldn't reason Macnair around to his side of things if he still wasn't seeing it.

"Maybe so," he conceded, his tone matching Macnair's. He swallowed. Macnair looked as miserable as Ford felt. After a second, Ford crossed the space between them and sat next to Macnair on the bed. Without waiting to see how he would react, Ford wrapped his arms tightly around the other man, curling his whole body into his.

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