The thing about having a baby is that thereafter you have it. – Jean Kerr
Age: Six Months – May
Wes stirred in his sleep, something nagging at his slumbering brain, a sound… a noise… wait, an intruder?
The cop in him kicked into overdrive. He rolled onto his side, reaching for the gun that wasn't on the nightstand, the gun that hadn't been in its usual place for the last six months. It was then, when the understanding filtered through his not-quite-wakened mind that the suspected intruder was instead a crying baby. His crying baby. Violet.
An unexpected groan escaped him. He loved his little girl, god only knew he did, but sometimes, just sometimes, he wished she could pick better moments than say, two A. M. to need a potty break. Wes pushed himself up onto his elbow, trying to pull it together enough for a late night diaper change.
The gentle touch of his partner's hand on his back stopped him mid-sit. "Let me get her," Travis murmured groggily. "You always get up. It has to be way past my turn."
Wes smiled despite the aching tiredness that plagued him. "It's okay Travis, I can get her."
Travis frowned, rubbing Wes' back. "All you have to do is say the word, you know and I'll…"
Turning, he stopped him with a chaste kiss. "I know, honey, and it's okay, I promise."
Violet let out another disgruntled wail, eliciting a sigh out of Wes. "I guess that's my cue," he joked, pushing himself fully out of bed this time. "Go back to sleep."
Travis attempted to take diaper duty one more time but, rebuffed yet again, he let Wes handle it. He was much more efficient, even if Travis had more practice at it.
She stared up at him with her big blue eyes, fist shoved in her mouth and feet kicking. Wes looked down at his daughter, a smile creeping along his mouth. He traced a round cheek with a finger, rocking slowly in the antique rocking chair he'd found in a thrift store three months back. Wes almost hadn't even gone inside, not until Travis insisted they check it out. He'd never been more thankful as sometimes that rocking chair was the only thing that soothed this savage beast.
"You're such a pretty little girl," he told her, smiling. "My perfect little flower."
"You do realize," Travis said from the doorway, "that she'll go to sleep faster if you rock more and talk less?"
Wes looked up at his lover's form shadowed by the Winnie the Pooh night light. "I do, but I can't help it. She's just too cute."
"Kinda like you," he teased, coming over to stand at Wes' side. He watched the blonde making eyes at their daughter and couldn't repress the grin that sprung forth. "Okay little one," Travis announced softly, "its bedtime whether your mama likes it or not."
A mangled sound escaped Wes' throat when Travis stole their little girl from his arms. "Travis," he chided, "she was fine right where she was. And don't call me 'mama'."
He tucked Violet into her crib, tickled her under the chin and turned to face his boyfriend. "Yes, I know she was, but you and me? We have work in the morning and you need some sleep. So, come on lover boy, and let's hit the hay."
Wes gave a noncommittal grunt as he stood. "I have to admit, this is the first time you've ever ordered me to bed to sleep."
"And it'll probably be the last time, too," he threatened playfully. "However, like the word or not, for better or for worse, you're always going to be that baby's mama."
Wes gave him a weary smile in return, unable to argue the point tonight. After all, being mama took a lot out of a boy.
"Guess whose home, Violet!" The baby looked up at Dakota and burbled enthusiastically. "See, I knew you'd know your daddies on sight, such a smart girl!"
Travis grinned and held out his arms. "She sure is, isn't she? Lemme have my grrrrrl!"
Wes tried to roll his eyes in disgust, but really, it was hard to blame either of them for acting the fool around that child. Violet had a way of making the most serious of people turn silly. He grinned, remembering the Captain's first introduction to the little rug rat. That had been amusing bordering on insanity. "You two are ridiculous."
"Oh really," Travis drawled, dragging his attention away from his daughter and focusing it on his lover. "And which one of us was singing nursery rhymes to her last night?"
"Travis, didn't you say you needed a shower or something," he deflected. "And it wasn't exactly a nursery rhyme."
He snorted, vindicated. "That's what I thought. And you're right, I do." Travis turned to Dakota and smiled, handing Violet off to Wes. "Excuse me for bailing but I got puked on by a drunk this afternoon."
Dakota wrinkled her nose after Travis left the room. "I thought I smelled something but I didn't want to be rude."
Wes lifted an eyebrow. "Right? Try riding with him." He gave a mock shudder. "Lucky for him, he had a spare set of clothes at the station, or he'd have walked home."
"And on that stinky note, I should be going. I will see you tomorrow Miss Blue Eyes." She booped Violet on the nose and turned to leave. "Oh," she said, looking back at Wes. "Your little one there has learned a new trick. Lay her on her back on the floor and you'll see what I mean. See you tomorrow."
"Night, Dakota." Wes let her out of the house, locking the door behind her. To his daughter he said, "So, what do you have up your little puffed sleeves? And an even better question is should we wait for your daddy to find out?"
"Whatever you two are plotting out there," Travis called from the bedroom, "you had better wait for me!"
Wes chuckled. Leave it to Travis to hear that and not the important things like, oh, maybe dinner was ready or that they were running late? "I suggest you hurry the hell up, Marks, so you don't miss anything." Deciding to meet Travis halfway – he had had a rather nasty day after all – Wes carried Violet into the bedroom and sat on their shared bed, waiting.
"Woah," Travis shouted, coming out of the shower stark naked. "Baby girl doesn't need to see this," he joked, grabbing a towel off the rack and wrapping it around his waist. "Warn a lover, would you?"
The blonde just grinned. "But what about me? Don't I need to see it on occasion?" It had been a while, he mused.
Travis threw him a lascivious wink. "Oh, you'll see plenty of that later, I promise. Now, let's see baby girl's trick."
Gently, Wes placed Violet on her back in the middle of the bed and moved back to watch. She lay quietly for a minute, happily sucking on her fingers. Wes idly wondered if that meant teeth were imminent but that thought was pushed aside when Violet sighed and rolled onto her stomach with nothing more than a kick of her feet.
"Wait," Travis spluttered, rolling her back onto her back. "I think I missed it."
"Travis," Wes snorted, laughter overcoming his protectiveness, "that is not how you handle a baby!"
Violet was undaunted, however. She immediately rolled herself onto her stomach again, leaning forward to chew on the rucked up comforter.
"That's pretty awesome," Travis said. "Such a big girl. Stop growing right this minute, little Miss Mitchell-Marks!"
Watching Travis reach out for their daughter, Wes remained silent. He had been told the emotional roller coaster he'd been living on would eventually disappear after the baby was born, but for all intents and purposes, it was still lingering. Ninety percent of the day, he was fine. But there were moments, moments like these where he watched his lover cradle their child against his chest, when he just didn't trust himself to speak. Not wanting to betray his emotional instability, knowing he was unable to verbalize what he was feeling, he instead smiled at his boyfriend and their daughter. With a kiss to Travis' forehead, he took his turn in the shower.
Wes climbed into bed beside Travis, snuggling up against the other's broad chest. Lazily, Travis slung an arm across Wes' waist, bringing him as close to him as he could. Travis nuzzled Wes' neck leisurely, teasing his lover and breathing in his freshly washed body.
The blonde's fingers traced a wandering path up the arm holding him close. "Travis?"
"Mmmmm," he responded, burying his nose behind Wes' ear.
"Travis," Wes repeated, fighting a tremor of anticipation that flooded through him at Travis' touch, "do you think Violet will be enough?"
"Enough what," he mumbled against a swath of pale skin.
He inhaled sharply as teeth grazed his shoulder. "Enough family," he gasped, trying to hold onto his sanity long enough to get this one important thing out before he gave in to his lover's ministrations.
Travis pulled back leaving a cold, wet, emptiness on Wes' skin. "What do you mean, 'enough family'?"
He rolled onto his back, gazing up into Travis' stormy blue eyes. "Will she and I be enough family for you? You've always talked about 'when the time was right' you wanted a woman and a baseball team of kids. But…"
"…but I don't care. You alone would be enough, Wes. Violet was just a happy bonus. I get that itch again later and we can get a hamster or something."
Wes chuckled, stroking a flat palm across Travis' chest. "Are you sure because… well, I'm – I'm not certain I can do this again."
Travis pressed his mouth against Wes' firmly, stopping the flow of words before they could get started. "And last time would have been so much easier if you'd only been honest. Don't say it," he stopped Wes before he could lay into him again, "because I know, I was at fault too. I'm just reminding you."
He sighed heavily. Wes knew that Travis was right, on both counts. It would have been easier if he'd just told him the truth in the beginning, but he hadn't been able. "I love you, you know," he whispered, knowing even so that his lover heard his words. "I just worry." Worry that I'll never be what you need me to be.
Travis kissed him again, with a little more passion this time. "This, what we have right here – you, me and baby girl over there – is something you don't have to worry about, ever, you hear me? We're good."
"Nah," Wes countered, feeling playful for the first time since the worry had snuck up on him, "we're better than good."
"You got that shit right," Travis joked, pouncing on Wes, holding him down against the mattress. "Wanna find out just how good we are?"
"Desperately," he answered honestly.
Wes eagerly met Travis' mouth with his own, biting on his lover's full lower lip. His right hand gripped the curve of Travis' shoulder, holding tight, keeping him from changing his mind and fleeing. The other was tangled in the bed sheets, grasping futilely for purchase. He lifted his hips frantically, hungry for the feel of his boyfriend's body against his. Travis complied, burying himself deep within Wes' body, crushing their lower halves together with a bruising rhythm.
He didn't care how it happened between them tonight, who was the aggressor and who was the receptor, all he needed was to feel wanted again. To be something other than Violet's daddy for just a few moments in the dark. It went without saying that she was the most important thing in his life – followed quickly by Travis and then maybe, possibly his job – but her care took up so much of his time that he often felt like he was losing himself to her. There seemed to be no time left over for Wes to be Travis', since he was always too occupied being Violet's.
Travis had apparently decided that needed to change, tonight, and for that, Wes was grateful.
Until he heard her cry.
"Damnit," he muttered, pushing at Travis' chest, "Trav, I -."
"Shut up," Travis growled, devouring Wes' protest with an aggressive kiss, "I'm so fucking close, she'll be fine for four seconds. You and me, we need to come first sometimes."
Wes opened his mouth to argue but Travis took his ability to speak away with a series of quick, sharp thrusts. What came out instead was closer to praise than disagreement. "Jesus, Marks," he grunted, coming hard on his partner's heels.
"Not quite that good, buttercup," he teased, pulling away from Wes' trembling body, "but close. Gotta work on that."
"You are rotten, post coital bliss notwithstanding."
"Rotten or not," he laughed, kissing Wes on the forehead, "that was much too long overdue."
"Agreed," Wes smiled, blowing a kiss back at Travis, "and pretty damn amazing to boot."
"So glad you thought so," he countered, tugging on a discarded pair of sweatpants. He stood and turned towards the door.
"Wait," Wes called, sitting up. "Where are you going?" Panic built in his chest for no reason.
"Just going to check on Vi, baby. I'll be right back." He winked and disappeared into the hall.
Moments later, Violet's agitated cries softened, then stopped completely. Wes was one part thankful, two parts terrified by how easily Travis handled their daughter. Unable to just lie there and wait for his boyfriend to return, Wes rolled out of bed, feeling every ache in his misused body until he was on his feet, hitching a pair of pajama bottoms that quite possibly weren't his over his hips.
Travis looked up from Wes' favorite spot, Violet in one arm, a bottle attached to the other. "What are you doing here," he asked gently. "I got up so you could stay in bed."
Wes moved closer, running a hand across Travis' hair. "I was worried you might need help."
A deep laugh rumbled out of Travis. "I'm capable, you know. All those years in foster homes taught me some useful skills as well."
"As if knowing how to hot wire a car isn't useful," Wes teased.
"Only so long as you don't get caught," Travis reminded him. "But we're good, Wes. Go back to bed. I'll be there in a few. Promise."
"I'll hold you to that." Wes kissed Travis' mouth, lingering for a moment before planting a light buss on his daughter's cheek.
He wandered back into their bedroom, the air scented with the remnants of their combined showers and unrestrained lovemaking. Sighing, Wes collapsed onto his pillow. By the time Travis returned eight and a half minutes later, he was sound asleep.