Hello, everyone! This work will consist of (usually) individual one-shots! Prompts will be taken from the 100 Theme Drabble Challenge on deviantart (unfortunately, I will not be writing for all 100 prompts).

The story will update sporadically.

Thank you for reading!

(38) - Voice

au; parenting + deaf character

"…And we got the tarp, tarp's good—utensils and plates, great. And we checked for the fruit. Strawberries, strawberries." Pause. "And the wallet and keys. Can't go anywhere without the wallet and keys." Warren checks boxes off his list as he goes, back pressed against the countertop, one ankle over the other. There's a moment of silent tension, suspended both in the air and his skin as his brows furrow in concentration. A sudden stress in his spine substitutes the slump in his shoulders. "Am I missing anything?"

He lifts his gaze from the notebook. Nathan is thoroughly burrowed in the mass of papers scattered over the counter, and the corrugation forming on the bridge of his nose rivals that of Warren's from only moments ago. Something about the whole setting calls Warren to a recollection of various study sessions in his dorm at Blackwell, where he would guide Nathan through trying blocks of chemistry homework prior to expending the rest of their time in…slightly more interesting manners, if not as a reward for all the mental turmoil.

Warren skirts the slab and presses a hand between Nathan's shoulder blades, the other resting against the table. The titanium band on his ring finger clicks against the stainless steel surface.

Warren zeroes in on the papers and immediately stifles a laugh. It comes out as a strangled sort of snort, but he can't help himself.

Nathan whips his head around, now rapt with attention. "What?"

"Is that—"

Nathan glances at the papers, then back to Warren with a half-hearted scowl. "Oh, laugh it up, why don't you?" he says, but Warren's chortling and he can't stop, and even Nathan's fighting a grin as he tries to raise his voice over the laughter. "I bet your fellow colleagues wouldn't even get this shit. I hate logic problems. Who's going to be using this in twenty years? Not my fucking daughter, that's for sure."

"Don't say that. Maybe she'll make a living off of crafting SAT questions for the College Board once she graduates from Princeton, who knows?"

Nathan scrunches his face up, like he's just sucked on a lemon and can't get rid of the taste. "Ugh, please. It's only been five years and you're already trying to give me premature empty nest syndrome. I should have just left her homework up to you."

Warren chuckles and swoops down to meet Nathan's lips with his own.

It's warm and tender and just right, a perfect fit. Nathan hums in approval and leans into the kiss; the haze is strong enough to push Warren's mind to hug the thought of where he would be now, if it weren't for this—if it weren't for Nathan, holding Nathan, kissing Nathan, feeling Nathan's hands roaming over his chest to wrap around his neck. Loving Nathan. Promising to be his, forever. Warren couldn't ask for more.

He pulls back and lays a quick kiss on Nathan's nose. Honest to god, this man. The brilliance of his smile could replace the flash function on every camera within his possession, if he wanted.

Warren hears shuffling coming from the opposite side of the room. All of a sudden, Nathan has seemingly dematerialized from his arms and made a beeline for the corner of the counter.

He surfaces back into view, daughter in arms and all.

"If it isn't our little angel," Nathan says. His voice jolts along with his frame as he shifts Kristine's weight onto his hip. "What are you doing here, sweetheart? Have you finished playing with your dolls?" Warren signs for Nathan, and Kristine smiles and tugs on her father's sweater before signing back. I'm hungry.

"We'll get you a snack in the car. You want strawberries?" Warren signs again.

Kristine shrieks in excitement, nodding so fast that her dark hair bobs up and down, slapping her father in the face. Shades of blue glow almost wildly behind the curtain of curls draped over her face. Warren insists that she resembles Nathan, but it's an indisputable fact that she has Warren's eyes.

Warren takes her from Nathan's arms, and she laughs, clapping her hands in excitement, fingers working in a frenzy while Warren presses a kiss to her temple. How many can I have?

"We can't eat them all, Kristie. We're going on a picnic for lunch, remember?"

Kristine pouts. Can I have twelve?

Nathan kisses her fingers and pokes her cheek. "Of c—"

"No," Warren says, frowning. "That's too much, and she won't eat anything at the picnic. Do you know how much water is in that stuff? And why twelve?"

Nathan curls his lower lip and looks to his daughter, then back at Warren.

Warren sighs. "Honey, I know you want to give her what she wants, but we've been planning this for two weeks now. Look at all this food. And Victoria's going to bring even more. What's she going to do when her beloved niece doesn't eat any of her rich shortbread cookies?"

Nathan doesn't say a word. He's—oh, god. He's doing that puppy eye thing again.

Warren groans. "Fine," he says. "Five strawberries."

"Eight."

"Four."

"Six?"

"Okay! Yes, fine. Six. But that's it."

Warren sets Kristine on the floor and pretends not to hear the slap of his daughter's high-five as he turns to grab the car keys.