It was still early in the morning when Gregory came home from his errands. He shut the front door quietly, hoping Christophe would sleep through the noise he was making, and hung his keys on their hook, carefully balancing the bundle in his arms. He was sure Christophe would be mad at him once he figured out what was happening, so it was best just to let sleeping dogs lie, so to speak. Christophe had strict rules about this sort of thing, after all, but Gregory felt this particular job was not outside of the moral code they both lived by. He was sure that if, given the chance, he explained what was going on to his boyfriend and partner, then everything would be ok. Unfortunately, he also knew full well that Christophe was not very likely to even give him the chance to explain himself. He was rather foolishly hoping that he could side-step the whole issue entirely.
He crept through the living room and peeked into their bedroom, and was relieved to see that Christophe was still passed out in their bed. Gregory had purposely kept him up late the night before, plying him with wine and sex, hoping for this result. He didn't know how long it would be before he had to deliver this particular package, but the sooner it was out of their house, the better.
He set it gently on the kitchen table, dropping the bag he'd stolen with it on the floor, and went to make himself something to eat. He had no experience with this sort of thing, so he was somewhat bewildered when only a few minutes later a loud wailing sound came from the table.
"Fuck," he muttered, rushing over to it. He picked it up and began to rock it, hoping to stop the sounds it was making, but it was too late. He heard a noise at their bedroom door and looked up to see Christophe standing there, looking bleary-eyed and annoyed.
"Oh, er, good morning, darling," Gregory said, trying to postpone the tirade he was sure his boyfriend was about to launch into.
"What ze fuck is zat?" Christophe practically growled out, and then broke into a yawn. He scratched his head sleepily, and Gregory started to hope that maybe he'd simply be too tired to get properly angry.
"Er. Fuck. It's a baby, Christophe, what do you think?" he said, rocking the still-wailing infant in his arms.
"I can see zat. I think what I meant to ask was, 'What ze fuck ees eet doing in our 'ouse?'"
"It's a bit of a long story. I'll be perfectly happy to tell you after I get the damned thing to stop crying."
Christophe said nothing for a minute, just watched as Gregory held the baby in his arms, desperately trying to get it to calm down without losing his own temper. Gregory looked up at Christophe hopefully, but the angry Frenchman had an odd look on his face, some strange mix of anger and some other emotion Gregory couldn't quite place. He almost looked hurt as he gazed at the wailing infant. Then he looked back at Gregory.
"Well, eet's your problem," Christophe snapped, retreating back into their bedroom and slamming the door behind him.
"It's for a job, you petulant arsehole! I need your help!" Gregory shouted at the door.
"I don't care!" came a shouted reply, and Gregory heard the lock on the door click.
Gregory swore loudly and used his free hand to pick up a glass that was sitting on the table next to him, hurling it at the bedroom door.
He felt stupid immediately afterward, since all he had accomplished was breaking one of his best wine glasses, and making the baby cry even harder.
"Oh, fuck," he said quietly, "What do you want, baby?" he asked, bouncing it gently against him.
The baby, which was only a few months old, though Gregory was not really a good judge of this sort of thing, did not respond. Its crying grew loud enough that it was beginning to hurt Gregory's ears, and he winced as he shifted it in his arms.
Quickly becoming fed up with the situation, he tried everything he could think of to stop the crying, pacing from the dining room to the living room and back several times. The baby's diaper didn't smell, so as far as Gregory could tell it was clean. He thought someone had fed it just before he'd snatched it away, so that couldn't be it. He tried laying it back down in the car seat in which he had carried it into the house, hoping maybe it would go to sleep, but it continued to scream in an increasingly distressing manner, its little face turning bright red. Gregory threw a blanket over the car seat, hoping maybe the darkness would get it to fall asleep, but it only screamed louder.
The screaming was so mind-numbingly loud that Gregory hadn't even heard the bedroom door open, and jumped with surprise when Christophe appeared seemingly out of nowhere at his side.
"Eet's not a bird, you idiot," he said, pulling the blanket off the car seat.
He pulled the baby into his arms with more gentleness than Gregory had ever seen him show toward any living creature.
"What ees eet's name?" he asked, holding the baby against his chest and swaying from side to side and humming quietly.
"Er. David."
In a matter of seconds, the man Gregory had known for nearly twenty years transformed into someone completely unrecognizable to him.
"Allo, Daviiiid," Christophe cooed into the baby's face, holding him out at arm's length, but carefully supporting his head. The baby's screams quieted almost immediately, though it continued to whine and cry. Gregory was sure the look on his face probably mirrored that of the baby; which is to say he was dumbfounded.
Christophe continued to bounce the baby gently on his arms, and was making strange faces and cooing noises at it. It finally stopped crying completely and had grown quiet, staring at the Frenchman with fascination.
"What... the..." Gregory began, and Christophe looked at him sharply, as if he'd forgotten he was there.
"When was ze last time 'e ate?"
"Oh. Um. I don't know. I've had him for a few hours."
"Babies need to eat every few hours, stupide. Ees there formula een ze bag on ze floor?" Christophe asked, turning his attention back to the baby and wiggling his fingers in front of his face. The baby laughed and tried to grab at Christophe's fingers, screaming with delight as Christophe pulled them away quickly. Gregory stared for a moment before realizing he'd been asked a question.
"Yes, I made sure of that before I left," he said, reaching for the bag.
"Well zen make a bottle before David starts to scream again, oui?"
Gregory was still overcome by the drastic change in Christophe's demeanor, and rushed to do as he was asked without a word. He returned from the kitchen a few minutes later with a warm bottle, and found Christophe sitting on the sofa in the living room, the baby carefully balanced on his knees as he jingled his car keys above his head, and humming a tune that Gregory couldn't quite place. David's tiny hands were reaching for the keys, and he was laughing as Christophe put them nearly within his reach, and then pulled them away.
"I had no idea you were so good with kids," Gregory said, still stunned.
Christophe didn't respond, just glared at his boyfriend and reached his hand out for the bottle, pulling the baby around to rest against his chest once more. Gregory handed him the bottle and sat down on the sofa next to them, watching, mesmerized as Christophe held it to the baby's eager lips. He spoke to the baby, softly, in French, never taking his eyes off him as he drank from the bottle. He slowly leaned back against the sofa, still holding David against him.
After watching the baby for a few more moments, he turned his attention back to Gregory. When he spoke, he used the same soft voice he'd been using on the baby.
"'ave I ever told you that I was adopted?" he asked.
Gregory sat back in shock, his hand flying to his mouth. He thought he'd known everything about Christophe after knowing him for twenty years, especially after knowing him intimately for the last ten. Though neither man was the type to talk incessantly about himself, they had very few secrets between them. That Christophe had never told him such an important detail about himself shook Gregory to the core.
"Why, Christophe, I had no idea!" he said, trying to catch his breath.
"Oui. I lived een an orphanage until ze year before we met... until I was six years old. Then I was adopted and we moved to America."
"I see," said Gregory, but Christophe gave him a look before continuing.
"Ze nuns at ze orphanage... they were very cruel. They would beat us, and zen lecture us about 'ow they were working for God, and zat eet was God's will zat we were living with them. I 'ated it. What kind of a God would allow people to be so 'orrible to children that just needed someone to love them? Everyone there was so miserable, and most of ze children 'ad their spirits broken within weeks of arriving there. Ze worst thing was ze babies."
He paused for a moment as David finished his bottle. He pulled a piece of cloth from the diaper bag and threw it over his shoulder, and began pat the baby's back gently.
"Ze nuns seemed to believe that showing kindness was a weakness, or that eet was coddling or something. I never understood eet. But they would let ze babies scream for hours on end, never trying to help them or calm them down. It seemed like pointless torture to me. I 'ated hearing them screaming. So every chance I 'ad I would sneak into ze nursery and play with them, or just 'old them until they calmed down. I could not 'elp ze older children, because they were already too far gone. And anyway, most of them were cruel to me too, crueler then any of the nuns ever were. They called me names and beat me up more times than I can count. But ze babies... they were innocent. I thought back then that eef I could 'elp them... I don't know. I guess I 'oped that maybe some day someone might show me ze same compassion, or maybe I thought I could really make a difference in their lives. Who knows? All I really knew was I 'ated to see them suffer."
Gregory sat there in shock, torn between wanting to cry and wanting to kiss the hell out of Christophe. The moment was ruined when the baby spat up a disgusting stream of half-digested milk all over the rag on Christophe's shoulder.
"Ahh, bien!" Christophe cooed at him, "Don't you feel better now, mon petit garçon!"
He shifted the baby back into his lap, and Gregory hastily pulled the wet rag off his shoulder, terrified the goopy mess would get on the sofa. Christophe turned to him and smirked.
"I will let you change 'is diaper, when eet ees time," he said.
He laughed at the look on Gregory's face, and then looked back at the baby on his lap with a contemplative look on his face.
"So you see, mon cher... there ees a reason I never wanted to get children involved in our work," he said, looking angry again, but still speaking in that oddly soft voice. "So. Please tell me why ze fuck you 'ave kidnapped this child?" he asked, looking back at Gregory with a dangerous look on his face.
Gregory sighed, exasperated. He was still trying to process the bombshell Christophe had just dropped on him. It explained so much about his partner's personality and habits. But he knew he needed to explain himself quickly or he'd really be in trouble.
"I didn't kidnap him. …Well, I kind of did, but I kidnapped him from his kidnappers. You remember the man we did a job for last year, who wanted us to take care of some mob guy who was threatening the restaurant he ran? Mr. Evans?"
Christophe nodded at this as he rocked the baby against him.
"Well, that's his kid. I guess the mob guy's cronies suspected that Mr. Evans had something to do with his disappearance, so they kidnapped David and was threatening to kill him unless Mr. Evans shut his restaurant down and left town. So he asked me to help."
"I see," said Christophe, as he looked back down at the baby, who was quickly falling asleep against his chest. Christophe looked tired as well, which made sense since he'd only had a few hours of sleep the night before.
"But why did you bring 'im to our 'ouse?" he asked, "You knew I would be angry."
"Ah yes, well, I'm still waiting for Mr. Evans to get back to me about payment. I just figured our house was probably the safest place to be in the meantime. It should only be a few hours."
"Did you get rid of 'is kidnappers?"
"Of course I did, Christophe. I'm nothing if not thorough. And I didn't want to risk being followed here, anyway."
Christophe nodded drowsily at this, his eyelids drooping.
"Ok," he said quietly, "Good. I am going back to sleep then."
"Here, on the sofa?"
"Oui."
"With the baby sleeping on you?"
"Oui. 'e likes me."
"Yes, but do you like him?" Gregory asked.
Christophe just shrugged and closed his eyes, sighing contentedly. Gregory took that to mean yes, although he doubted Christophe would ever admit to it. He'd never thought of Christophe in a familial way. Christophe was just Christophe: his grumpy, chain-smoking business partner who happened to also be his boyfriend. He'd never really considered having a family with him. Two gay men in their line of business didn't exactly have a lot of options. Still, perhaps a family would be nice. Gregory's own parents had disowned him when they found out he was gay, and hadn't spoken to him in nearly a decade. And Christophe's mother, or adoptive mother, Gregory supposed, had passed away five years ago. So really they were they only family either of them had. Gregory felt wheels turning in his head that he hadn't even known were there.
He liked a good challenge, and raising children definitely qualified as that.
He was broken out of his reverie by the sound of his phone ringing. His client was calling him. It was time to put those fanciful thoughts away, and get get back to business.
XXX
A/N Oh, um, this was supposed to be a one shot "Oh hahaha woudln't it be funny if Gregory and Christophe got stuck with a baby! They wouldn't know what to do with it!" fic and turned into something else completely. IDK, I might continue it some time if people want, or I could just leave it as-is? Thoughts? Reviews? Whatever?