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You know, when Whizzer trudged his way over to Marvin’s apartment after this long without a good dicking, he didn’t expect a babbling brat.
What he also didn’t expect is Marvin’s lack of morals, but that was a lie.
Whizzer knew Marvin had been gone for some time now, apparently busy with “work” and his “lovely wife, who didn’t deserve this.” His whines while they had sex were insufferable at this point, giving Whizzer an indescribable headache. Then again, this entire situation was pretty unbelievable - Whizzer, New York’s top whore in the underground sewer that is the gay community - being roped into some family drama. To be honest, he pitied Marvin’s wife - if Marvin was rude to him, he didn’t even wanna begin to imagine what his naive and humble wife had in store. At least Whizzer fought back.
So, arriving to their two-story house, Whizzer felt an ache begin to settle in his stomach. This entire thing was crazy. He’d slept with married men before, multiple- all closet-cases like his beloved, *moronic*, high school dormmate (at some point, anyway), but this time he knew the family. He’d met his wife, and he couldn’t stomach the guilt for much longer. No sex was worth this, and the money was beginning to make him feel like a total jackass.
So, here he came today planning to break it off. Was it gonna sting? Big time. He’d grown so attached to Marvin, and honestly, he wasn’t sure if he could do this. But it wasn’t healthy, and as hot and bothered as the fighting got him, it was starting to grow old. Little insults began to make him actually BELIEVE all the crap Marvin spewed after a day at work, and he refused to become as pathetic as his wife. Pity her or not, this couldn’t go on much longer, not for either of their sanities.
He brushed his hair back - forgetting to put gel in it, he’ll do it when he gets a rebound to get over this - and knocked on the door.
When Marvin opened up, per usual, his face seemed to drain out all the color. Just what the hell was he looking at?
The house was in shambles, first off. Toys he could barely count, colors forming into a weird blur, akin to his mind right now. What he can only hope was milk spilled beneath desks, and plastic wrap covering any less-than docile surface in the area. Blankets littered around, and a perpetual whining coming from every inch of the room. As he awkwardly peered deeper into the home, he could see Trina, Marvin’s fucking wife, on her feet yet again. Sweeping, mopping, with something making an awful lot of noise from her lower chest. Eyebags weighed heavy on her, and her hair and clothes were a mess, different from the plastic shell of a housewife he’d come to know.
Now, Whizzer wasn’t stupid. A scowl etched onto his mouth, as he yanked Marvin into a corner.
“YOU HAD A BABY?!”
Marvin sunk into himself, gulping. “Well- Trina begged for one. I can’t say no to her after all of this. After you.” Whizzer could almost laugh in his face. Was this guy delusional?
“No. No, no, no, *no*, Marv. We can’t keep doing this, not with a kid in the mix.”
Before Marvin could get any sort of word in, rage beginning to blister in, Trina narrowed down her target and went over to Whizzer, smile hollow but wide. “Whizzer! It’s a pleasure to see you. Can I get you anything?”
Whizzer knew he shouldn’t do this. He couldn’t do this, not to her, not to Marvin’s already fucked mind, not to-
Not to him.
His eyes peered down to Trina’s chest, where a bundle lay. The little mess of blankets was babbling out nonsense, curly hair covering its right eye. Eyes dark, but sweet - like caramel, or the repulsive coffee Marvin drank. His eyes narrowed down to Whizzer, and in the past 35 years of his life, he’d never felt so awful.
“Oh, this is Jason! Say hi, sweetheart.” Trina cooed at the baby, who was already reaching a tiny fist onto Whizzer’s chest. He could feel his heart melt into a gaping ooze.
And his mind too, considering the stupid thing he was about to do.
“I’ll take him off your hands. Just a day out while you two get sorted.”
Marvin immediately butt in, clear eyes growing a shade darker at even the THOUGHT of that request. But Whizzer wouldn’t hear it. Trina seemed elated, praising him to Marvin of what a good friend he was. Whizzer didn’t hear a word, scooping the infant into his hands and making his way out the door.
He was a total moron, wasn’t he?
But he couldn’t stand this. He couldn’t stand Marvin leaving this kid, who hadn’t done a thing wrong in his few days of life, to fend for himself. He’d refuse to. Issue is, he forgot to think about the fact he doesn’t have a damn clue what babies do.
“Heyy… Jason. You’re a cute little kiddo, aren’t you?”
Jason stuck his tongue out at the compliment, happily squealing over the fact he’s gotten his hand to fit in Whizzer’s left breast pocket. Whizzer felt like he was about to collapse.
The day, at least, went on as follows. Get to work, get this baby to not eat his pens, go to the local café - in which Jason decided to lick pure whipped cream off a plate. For being barely 6 months old, he was already pretty advanced. God knows he took a little while longer to walk than the other babies when he was younger. One thing Whizzer couldn’t ignore, though, was Jason’s lack of flare.
He knew Marvin was bordering on colorblind with his fashion sense, and Trina was of no use, buying the most basic garbage imaginable at Walmart - so Whizzer was gonna have to pick this kid up from the bootstraps. Literally.
Making way to a tiny store across his apartment, he noticed there opened a new area just for tots a few weeks ago - nothing fancy, just a little opening where they sold little boots and dresses and pjs for babies. It was spring, after all, babies were bursting at the seams. For Jason, a baby with way too much scorn - as showed earlier today when the kid glared at one of his co-workers for the simple act of taking away the cookie he was sucking on - he picked out a pair of blue overalls, brown accents, made of felt, outside the edges. Simple, but classier than the boring red onesie pyjama the kid had probably been wearing for months. Aside from the main outfit, he got Jason a little sweater (thin, so he wouldn’t overheat), and little baby sneakers. It’s a miracle how tiny their feet are. After getting it all on, he made his way over to a mirror at the shop, baby in his hands.
“Well, what a handsome little fella you are, huh? Sure you are, Jason.” He poked at the obvious baby fat around Jason’s cheeks, eliciting a giggle from the toddler. Whizzer despises children, the crying, the nagging- but this one got him.
After a few snarky comments (literally gossiping to a baby, what’s happened to him?) about the wives shopping beside them, Whizzer finally stopped halfway to Marvin’s house on a bench, flopping down with a sigh.
“I can’t do this, can I, Jason? You don’t deserve this family. You’re too good.” He ruffled Jason’s hair, curls getting caught between his fingers.
Guess Jason wasn’t as smart as he thought, though.
“Papa.”
That one little word was enough to make Whizzer feel an emotion he’d bent for a very long time; solidarity. He suddenly felt clung to this kid like glue, and he knew it, too- he couldn’t do this.
If he was staying, it was for Jason. His son.