Work Text:
January 30, 2027 - bedtime
“Il était une fois…” Nick begins, peering over the tiny bundle on his chest to read the words printed on the newly cracked pages of the thirty-six-year-old book in his hands.
The book his waste-of-time dad bought before he was born that sat unread on his childhood bookcase, before following him through each and every home he's ever lived in, serving as a reminder of his past and a promise for his future. Unbeknownst to him, that future began the day he turned up at Charlie Spring’s door, newly single and in need of a room to rent at the beginning of the COVID pandemic. His ever after started when brown eyes met blue, lips hidden beneath masks. He didn't know it back then, of course; didn’t know that opening that door would lead to opening this book, but he's so thankful that it did.
The whimsical font makes it a beautiful book to look at but harder to read, though Nick is under no illusions that that is the reason these tales were never read to him as a child. His glasses would probably help, but there’s no way he can reach them without causing a major disruption, so instead he leans back into the pillows piled behind him on the bed and adjusts his arms so the book is slightly closer to his face and angled just a little more conducively to reading.
His shift elicits a soft gurgle from the miniature audience snuggled against him and he feels his knees go weak at the sound. Not just his knees, but his thighs and his chest too. He thought he was gone for his husband, and he is, but this is a whole new flavour of love. Not stronger, not weaker, just different. He drops a kiss on his squirming ball of human and continues to read “...dans un pays très très lointain…”
A small noise startles him and he stops before the end of his first sentence again. What was that? Was it a cry? Is he hungry? No, he had a feed before they set off. Are his legs trapped, or his arms? It could be that? Nick sets the large hardback down to check on the baby. His baby. Their baby. The baby that is physically smaller than the book, but so much bigger in Nick’s heart.
He peeks under the cellular blanket to see four unobstructed limbs curled up cosily under an unclothed body not that much larger than Nick’s hands, a golden topped head facing to the side, one little dimple on display. The fur on his own exposed chest curls around his son’s body, keeping him warm and safe, the way Nick plans to ensure his son feels every day for the rest of his life. He hears the noise again, and sees the little torso shake – is that? oh– that's just the cutest! “Charl– Daddy!”
Charlie answers his call, appearing in the doorway seconds later. “Yes, Papa?”
“I think he has the hiccups, Daddy!”
“No way!” Charlie gasps, visibly melting where he stands. “Let me get my phone, I need to record this…”
“Just watch one first! Then yes! Uncle Isaac needs to see this!”
Charlie scrambles onto the bed, hovering beside them on his hands and knees, gaze focused on their son's soft little back. Nick contentedly watches Charlie as he waits for the first of many ‘firsts’ they have waiting for them as a family.
“Come on little guy, hiccup for Daddy!” he encourages, lightly stroking the face that they have agreed several times over is the most beautiful face that has ever graced the Earth.
A little button nose scrunches and tiny pink lips smack, but no hiccup escapes.
“Papa, what's the opposite of scaring him?” Charlie whispers, looking at Nick with those big, wide eyes that Nick still to this day cannot cope with and finds it difficult to concentrate when looking into.
“Papa?!”
“Sorry, what, Char?”
“Daddy. Not Char. And the opposite of scaring? You know how you make someone jump to stop hiccups? Can we somehow reverse–”
“No, Daddy,” Nick smirks, rolling his eyes fondly, “We cannot stimulate hiccups by being unthreatening. Just wait, my ridiculous love.”
“M’kay.” Charlie pouts.
Nick takes a moment to appreciate the beauty of his husband’s lips, full and soft in their exaggerated lines, before giving him a gentle nudge to get the phone in case it does happen again. While Charlie’s gone, Nick picks up the book and continues reading, both he and baby settling into a rhythm as they learn how this works, together.
He doesn’t notice Charlie returning until he hears the faintest little shutter sound coming from the phone in his hand. “A wrong righted, baby. Proud of you,” Charlie smiles softly, locking the screen and pocketing the device.
Nick smiles and yawns. “No you don't!” Charlie warns him, his tone firm. “Remember what the guidance says – no sleeping with baby on us. Moses basket for you, little guy,” Charlie says, peeling their tiny bundle off Nick’s chest, pulling him close to his own and making sure his head is positioned comfortably. “Wanna see it? It's been here waiting for you to be born, and now here you are!”
Nick misses his nugget instantly. The moses basket feels far too far away, and yet he's so tired after becoming a parent a few days prior and then coming home today that he can't will his body to follow.
Charlie kisses their son's head and bends to put him down, feet to the bottom in the moses basket that looked so small when they set it up but somehow drowns him now he’s here. Charlie then dresses him in the dark Pubert Addams onesie from Aunty Tori and covers him in the bright rainbow striped blanket that Sarah had excitedly knit for her first grandchild. Nick falls more and more in love with Charlie with each step of the process. That’s his husband, and he’s so good at this. It’s beautiful to see.
As Charlie straightens up, he knocks the mobile of paper animals that they had made from the collection Nick had folded for him in lockdown. God, he had such a crush on Charlie back then, even before they stopped wearing masks and he could see his full face. He was sweet and smart and funny, and so considerate of Nick's wants and needs, which meant so much after his difficult break-up.
Nick couldn't act on his feelings back then, not while the pandemic burned at its hottest, fear and risk around every corner. Instead, he poured his energy into learning a new hobby and leaving his builds on Charlie's doorstep like pebbles from a hopelessly-in-love little penguin. COVID never went away of course, and fear and risk remain, but with the introduction of vaccines and the easing of restrictions came the possibility for them to become more than roommates and friends. So then they swapped origami affection for physical affection… yet Charlie never threw those gifts away.
Origami isn’t the only lockdown activity that now decorates their new son's corner of their bedroom. Colourful shelves on the wall display books carefully selected by Isaac, a music box from Tara, photos taken by Tao, paintings by Elle, comics drawn by James and a selection of tarot cards from Darcy manifesting love, harmony, happiness, willpower, creation and strength. The things that got each member of their found family through the crisis. A little shelf of curiosities from the grown-ups in his life. Charlie places a Pokémon stuffie from Uncle Olly by the side of the moses basket and sits beside Nick on the bed.
“Shall we sleep while Joseph sleeps?” Charlie asks Nick softly, as they watch the newest Nelson-Spring’s eyelids flicker and close.
“That’s what the books say,” Nick answers with another yawn. “I kind of want to snuggle with you and make you feel loved, though. And maybe intermittently stare at Joe-Joe,” Nick admits, pulling his husband close.
“We can do that,” Charlie smiles, curling into Nick’s embrace and pulling a blanket over them. “We can do that.”
