Work Text:
After a long day of work, all she wanted was wine and sleep.
Too bad as soon as she’s able to place the glass against her lips, Wally starts to cry.
Felicia sighed as the cries of the baby erupted through the apartment. Placing her glass of red wine down, she moves to go tend to her son.
Felicia trudged to the corner of the room and cooed gently as her sweet little son hiccuped and squawked in his baby blue blanket. The crib painted white by her dad and covered in stickers for a childish touch. Little Walter Benjamin Hardy was crying, tears streaming down his round cheeks and his nose was running. Carefully, she takes his blanket into her hand, wiping his little nose to clear it before she lifts her son into her arms.
“Hey,” she whispered as she brought Wally up to her chest, the babe squirming in his blankets until he was suitably swaddled again.
“Shh,” she stroked one chubby, wobbly cheek with a fingertip as she began to sway, “It’s okay, Mommy’s here,” she cooed.
Wally’s cries ebbed away with the prolonged contact, his face relaxing and his eyelids becoming heavy. He snuggled against her chest, as he did with most adults he was held by. Felicia sometimes wondered if he was listening for a heartbeat, the green tank top she wore now should help him tonight.
Felicia found his pacifier in the mound of blankets and plushies and the baby looked about ready to suck himself to sleep. Except, the moment Felicia bent over to put him to bed those green eyes flew open and his cheeks wobbled with slight panic, wide awake and ready to cry should she commit to placing him back into his pillowed cage. Felecia raised an eyebrow at him as she stood straight, her son meeting her eyes as if to make sure she’d stay.
She sighed, “I need to sleep too, sweetheart.” She cradled her son to her chest and tilted her head back, thinking about the alarm that would go off in four hours. Bone-tiredness was already seeping into every joint and muscle, making her feel twice as heavy as normal.
Wally continued to blink up at her, Felicia brushed a few silver locks of hair back from her eyes. “Go to sleep,” she encouraged, doing everything that normally calmed her tiny son to no success. Her child was still so against sleeping in his crib.
Stubborn, just like your dad. She muses.
Taking a seat on the couch with the little brunette in her arms, she grabs the remote to the TV. Flipping to the channel of her liking, she places a soft hand on Wally’s chest so he would know she was with him, protecting him. Moments later the baby was out like a light, gently snoring through a squishy, tiny nose.
Spoiled, just like your mother. She smiles down at him.
Looking up at the TV, she sees a familiar figure swinging through the city. He was being recorded from someone’s phone, showing him stopping a hijacked car.
He practically lived on the news nowadays.
She missed her Spider, but she couldn’t let him know she was alive.
As of now, it was safer for both of them— her boys . Letting the Maggia think she’s dead does the city as a whole, more good. She’s doing the right thing, she has to believe that.
Carefully grabbing the glass of wine from earlier off the table, she raises it towards the TV.
“Here’s to us.”