MASTER OF NONE
To be fair, he had already sat down and begun working - in what he thought to be solitude, in what seemed like a secluded place- before he realized there was in fact a living breathing baby inside of the bassinette tucked into one corner of the faculty study. Why should he find somewhere else to work? This is a place of business, after all.
It made another noise.
Pietro ignored it.
He had seen neither hide nor hair of Greer all day, but if that woman saw fit to stash her feline-spawn away in random public places of business for naps, it was no concern of his.
It mewed. Made a sniffling sound. Hissed?
Pietro kept working. He was not a babysitter and did not, truth be told, even remember its name. William.
Wanda named one of her own sons William. (She named both of her sons in honor of the Vision's legacy.) When his nephews were born, Pietro had been far away, far astray, thrall to Maximus' sadistic influence and lost in a blinding madness fanned into a roaring inferno by other... exacerbating factors. Had he ever even met them, before they ceased to exist? Those days are blanketed by a dark fog, even now.
It grouched. Fussed.
It was working up to cry, he could tell. And then Pietro would get no work done. He would get no work done either way. Or he could just leave. He could retreat from the innocent needs of a helpless baby.
It whimpered. Lonely. Afraid? What if it was hungry?
"Hello, William."
Curious and keen, it locked focus upon Pietro immediately, staring up from the bassinette with bright hazel eyes that seemed too big for its entire head, chubby face covered in amber fuzz topped by a tuff of auburn hair. Its mother's son, certainly. Except... cute.
It reached for him, (it didn't know any better), kicking little feet until the blanket came off and still kicking, reaching, wanting, started to cry.
Without meaning to, without thinking first, Pietro picked it up. He had not held an infant in ages, a lifetime ago, might as well be someone else's lifetime. He was a different man when Luna was this small, a young man, a married man. An honorable man.
"There, there," he said, "that's a good boy." There is this thing Americans say about what you never forget after learning, 'like riding a bicycle'. Pietro has never actually ridden a bicycle, but he used to leave Crystal sleeping and rise to soothe little Luna if she stirred during the night. She fit just in the nook of his arm, only the length of his elbow to wrist, so tiny. William was bigger, older, heavier. Furrier. But you never do forget.
It settled back calm again, drowsy with the rocking motion and the nonsense prater that Pietro carried on with. A pacifier was clipped on its onesie, and he popped that in. Gumming away, its eyes drifted half-closed, still focused on Pietro. He realized that his unusual hair had inspired such fascination. In one last bout of determination, it stretched towards the silver tresses with a too-short arm, miniature hand falling still against Pietro's neck as sleep finally overcame it.
He laid it down upon the mattress. Pulled the tail of a toy snake hanging from the bassinet's side that played a soft lullaby while recoiling. Set the blanket gently over its body. Ran out of reasons for staying. Remained nonetheless, watching the child sleep. An eternity in each heartbeat, a heart that beat countless times in any given second, like a machine designed for hard work. Not for this.
"Thank you."
He cursed, spat, wailed internally that she, that anyone, could possibly sneak up on him. Without moving a single muscle outwardly. "You're welcome. For what?" In that instant he returned to the desk, to the task at hand.
"I don't know. For being the Avengers' resident jack of all trades." Greer left her position leaning on the doorframe to come into the room. "You can run point, recon, exfiltrate, kite, and who knew, even put kittens to sleep."
"I-"
"Baby monitor," she pointed to a device hanging from the bassinet.
"Ah. So you are not a completely irresponsible parent as I had assumed. Happy day."
"And you aren't completely heartless." There was no sharpness in her voice. No surprise, either. She stood gazing down upon her son in his slumber. "You don't have to make it seem like that all the time, you know." A little edge as she added, "No one really buys it anyway."
In the time it took her to finish speaking, Pietro completed his work at long last. He stood and made to leave. "I do not need heart to put an infant to sleep, Greer. I need only gall."
"Wh- why gall?"
He flipped off the lightswitch by the door. That lamp shone straight into the bassinet. "Because I do not deserve the privilege."
Quicksilver went back to control center. Surely by now, there must be another job needing done.
~fin~