A/N: People keep asking me for a Careese baby story, so here you go, your darn baby story, haha! Just kidding, just kidding. Enjoy this, and leave a comment if you feel. Thanks!
Disclaimer: None of these characters nor POI belongs to me. Just here for its and grins.
The storm had started just when the forecast said it would, and it was just as severe as predicted. Flash flooding, lightening, windswept rain, accidents left and right. But John wasn't stopping for anything. He had to get there. He would get there. He had survived bomb blasts in Tikrit and Kabul; a little rainy wind wasn't going to hold him back. He had to get home. Home, to see his family. Joss and their baby son, Aaron, who was all of eight months old, the lights of his life were worth risking his neck in near-blinding rain to be with.
The back trunk was packed with diapers and new baby clothes, varied size 12-24 months, just as Joss had instructed, since their boy was growing bigger by the day, and she wanted to get more use out of his playsuits and shoes, and even toys before she gave them away to the Goodwill. He also made sure to pick up three cases of formula, multipacks of baby food, wipes, and a few things for little Aaron from the toy store. A small knapsack of clothes for himself were in the back seat. He had enough items for a week's stay, even with laundry access, and he also managed to pick up a few groceries for the house while he was at it.
It was the fourth week of the month. The time when he got the chance to be a father to Aaron, hands-on, as well as bond more with Taylor, and to love Joss up close and personal. No numbers, no bad guys, no burner phone—just uninterrupted family time with the boys and their mother. For they had a set up that, while it was not ideal, worked for the time-being. It had to. The numbers were his vocation, his calling, and he couldn't just abandon the people he'd taken a personal oath to protect now that he was a dad. Some other man, perhaps. But not John Reese. It wasn't easy, and he knew that Joss bottled up a lot of things she wanted to say about that. But he'd finally managed to, serendipitously as he had, get everything he'd ever wanted throughout a life of brutality and loss: a family of his very own.
The wipers swished furiously back-and-forth on the windshield, the engine roared steady and sure. It was as if they understood the urgency of his travel through such treacherous conditions. It was as if they knew he needed, more than anything else, to see his loves, to hold them, touch them, to love them as much as he humanly could. Not one drop of this week's time could any of them afford to waste.
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"Heeeyyy, l'il man! Is mommy's big boy awake? Yes?" Joss cooed softly to her baby, his tiny little head popped up and bobbing from the mattress, a tossle of thick curls atop it. She came gently into the nursery as he began to gurgle and babble his greetings to her, upon waking up from his nap. A toothless smile, bigger than the world, was Joss' to hold and cherish for the rest of her days, and she, so in love with her second son—as much as she was her first one when he was that age—laughed at his sweetness and scooped up her little sweet pea into the warm embrace of her mommy arms.
Lying him down on the nearby table, Joss got Aaron ready for his diaper change. After his naps, he always needed a change, even if he had had one before being put down. At eight months, he had power over his movements, and it was a challenge to keep him still long enough to get him changed. Joss couldn't help but laugh at his antics, while always emerging victorious in the battle of baby and diaper. Definitely his father's son.
And he looked so much like his daddy it made her tremble. The only thing of her she saw in his face was her color, a soft brown like the hue of the finest sandy beach. But the shape of his light brown eyes, the crook of his little nose, his chin, the distinguished forehead and jet-dark hair were all John's. And if she didn't know it, she could have sworn his lips already pursed into daddy's trademark smirk.
The baby hadn't been planned, of course; after the ambush and take down of HR, when the pair thought they might lose each other to the brutality of police corruption, they found a way to turn their stalwart friendship into a desperate passion, a passion that thrilled and surprised them both as they clung to one another for safety in the storm, and gave into the burgeoning feelings they'd been harboring for months prior.
It hadn't shocked Joss a few months later when she"d missed her period. That wasn't so unusual from time to time. But when the nausea came, waves of sick that rolled over her belly and lurched to and fro, she then realized something had happened to change the dynamic between her and John forever. A confirmation from her doctor was the bow on top of the box.
Abortion wasn't an option. Whether or not John wanted to be involved in this baby's life was irrelevant. She would have her child, and figure it all out as it came along. John was in mute shock at first, his usual masculine aloofness a cover for a torrent of feelings about what it all meant. But as the reality of doctor appointments, ultrasounds, baby clothes, mobiles, Joss' mood swings, cravings, and expanding waistline became more real, it was as if he'd been born to the role of expectant father. When it was time for the baby to be born, he was right there, open handed to catch the baby as it made its way into the world.
And now, they had their baby. He was a wonderful daddy, even if he could only be there one week out of the month. Taylor, who never thought he'd ever have another sibling was over the moon, in love with his baby brother from the day she told him that she was expecting. Thankfully, her oldest boy wasn't the kind to judge the bizarre situation as it stood. She chalked that up to him having had to roll with the punches between her and his dad, which, while painful for him to go through, probably prepared him for life more than anything else could have. And he liked John, so that was an even bigger bonus.
Aaron dribbled and drooled over the blanket Joss put over her shoulder, once he was fresh in his new diaper. He was teething, and having an easier time of it than earlier in the day. She was glad he had been able to nap, the discomfort making her poor boy miserable, even with the plastic teething rings she gave him. She nuzzled his chubby little cheeks with a grin.
"You know what, baby? Daddy's coming. Yes! Daddy is coming to see us! But you knew that, didn't you? You always know when Daddy's coming, hmm, baby? Oh, you know he loves you so much. I just hope this storm doesn't keep him away. Because we miss Daddy, don't we? He's been gone for such a long time..."
The two little nubs of his first two teeth showed themselves as he gave her another wide-mouth grin and a hiccup that ended on a gurgle. He was adorable, and his big smile only made Joss squeeze him tighter.
A few moments later, Joss heard the front door open. She clutched baby Aaron closer to her as she approached the top of the stairs and saw John there, clad in jeans and a leather jacket, his hair soaked with rain in the darkness of the early evening. Weighed down with the usual parcels of diapers and formula, he shook off the rain as best he could and then, once he'd taken care to remove his shoes and jacket before stepping on the carpet, took in the sight of his sweet family from the bottom. Little Aaron immediately began to giggle, his entire little face lighting up at the goofy face his father made for him.
"Hi, little guy! Hi! There's my good boy! Oh, yes, there's my good boy!" John put the bags down by the door and closed it to keep the rain out. Joss smiled at John and, without any words, carefully walked down the steps and handed Aaron over to his father, who was doing the best job an eight month old could do to get away from her and into John's arms, squealing and cooing all the way. Father and son reunited, they held on to each other, little Aaron's fingers digging into his daddy's shirt, John nuzzling him close for a kiss on the cheek. The boy smelled of baby shampoo and cereal. His curly hair tangled around John's fingers.
As wonderful as it was to hold his son again, the picture was incomplete. Lifting his head to see her, see the mother of this amazing boy standing there was enough to fill his heart with so much love, he thought he'd burst.
"Come here, sweetheart," he said, extending his arm to her. She sank into the safety, into the strength of him, and everything was all right. Everything was perfect.
Showering both of them now with kisses, John was home. The storm outside, all the storms he'd faced until this moment were no match for the bright rays of love spreading through that tiny little brownstone in Brooklyn.
A/N: It's not over yet. Next up, a night and day in the life of a vigilante and his unorthodox family. Warning: a little smut might come into the equation in that context, but we'll see. Hope you all like this one, and please read and review. Thanks!