Shaun wasn't happy. That went without considering where he was at the moment, or what he was continually forced to put up with. He may complain, but truth be told he loved his job, and he loved where he was. He may not have liked sleeping on hard ground every night, but after Desmond managed to salvage a mattress from only-Lord-knows-where, Shaun had never been happier—especially when he already had a sore back from an incident in upper school that will never be mentioned aside from this ever again.

All things considered, he still wasn't happy. Which led him back to the present, and he had to consider the fact that he had to hold a pink, squirming baby in his arms while a two-year-old cuddled into his lap. It really wasn't fair. It truly wasn't.

"Why do I have to take care of these… imps?"

"Shaun, cut them some slack. They can't help themselves."

"I am not changing—"

"Rebecca can do that."

"Why do I have to do that?" she wailed.

"Because unlike with me, they'll actually behave slightly."

Shaun snorted, swiveling in his chair to glare at Lucy. She had walked toward the children when they first arrived, and the two-year-old burst into tears and the baby started caterwauling. Rebecca couldn't get them to calm down, and when Shaun was forced to hold the pink squirming thing and cuddle with the irritating moppet, they settled down immediately. Only Heaven knew why, since he didn't want kids ever. Desmond had better be prepared to take care of them when he came down. He didn't want them, and he certainly didn't know how to take care of them.

So here he was, stuck with two squirming little freaks, and he couldn't do a damn thing about them, because for some reason they happened to like him more than Rebecca, which didn't make sense because Rebecca had girly parts, so naturally a baby should be attracted to the thing with its next meal, right?

Wrong, according to the pink little bundle in his arms.

"I don't get it, Luce," Rebecca said as she started working on Baby. "Why do they hate you?"

"I don't know," Lucy sighed, and Shaun tilted his head back, closing his eyes. "I honestly don't know."

Rebecca snorted, and the room fell into silence. He sighed. He wasn't excited that he had to hold the blasted children, and that he swore the little cretin was wiping its nose on his sweater. He even managed to doze off in the blessed silence as Lucy told Desmond to pick up more food on the return trip.

And then the nipper in his arms had to start crying—which, in turn, like a waterfall, caused the two-year-old to start crying. And it cried. And it cried. And it cried. And it hurt his head to the point he just wanted to throw the children into the sewers. It was bad enough he had to deal with Desmond, but now an imp and a newborn, too, and God was probably laughing at him as he opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, cursing his existence.

"What's wrong with them?" he heard Lucy say. "I'm not anywhere near them."

"I don't know," Rebecca said, even looking up from the Animus. "Shaun, do something."

It was loud, and it was shrill, and he knew that the damn thing was probably hungry. Of course, Lucy couldn't even touch the bundle, and Rebecca most likely wasn't lactating at the moment, so he was stuck with a screaming baby until—

"What the hell, man?"

He felt the child be lifted from his arms, and he looked to see Desmond sweeping the bundle out of his arms, cooing as he fed it a bottle that Shaun had no idea the man had gotten.

"You weren't even holding the kid right, you moron!" Desmond seethed, glaring at him before turning his attention back to the squirming bundle.

The two-year-old reached out for him, and the man with the bottle sat in the chair by his computer, calling the child-thing over. Shaun watched in wonder as the toddler went crawling and stumbling over to Desmond, who helped him into his lap. The man slung the arm with the bottle over the second child and talked quietly to them, having Rebecca fetch him the bananas from the bag, slowly coaxing the child into eating one, promising him a cooked meal later if he ate it. The child seemed to accept that, munching on the banana and leaving them all in wonder as the little things listened to his every word as if he were preaching the Bible to a bunch of fanatics.

Okay, so perhaps that wasn't the best comparison, but how in Hell's bells did Desmond get so good with children?

Oh, right, because Desmond was a child.

Finally, the baby was full, and he watched him burp the little slug as the toddler played around with his sweatshirt when Desmond took it off.

"Where'd the kids come from?" Desmond asked, walking over to Lucy as he bounced the baby.

Lucy eyed it warily. "From a team that will be joining us in a few days."

"What are their names?"

"The boy is Timothy McCutchan, and the girl is Monika Saskia Lehnsherr."

"Germans and Americans?"

"It was a mixed team that grew as they ran."

After it finally threw up, Desmond tidied the squirming bundle and sat back down, humming quietly as the two-year-old cuddled into his side, holding onto the sweatshirt like a safety blanket. Shaun watched as the man smiled softly, holding out a finger to the tiny little thing and cooing gently when it grabbed his finger.

"You're so beautiful," Desmond murmured, wiggling his finger as the child grew sleepy. "Just look at you. You're going to grow up and be the princess of a far off land, aren't you?"

He looked when the second child tugged at his shirt, and he laughed. "And yes, you're going to grow up and be the prince that rescues her from the evil clutches of the nasty British scholar."

Shaun scowled at the smug look sent his way. Desmond kissed the little boy's head, and the child nestled down, yawning in tandem with the baby. A few minutes later of Desmond's quiet murmuring, and they were out cold. The man seemed right at home holding the baby and cuddling the toddler, singing in Arabic softly as he awkwardly scooped up the toddler and brought him over to the sleeping bag. The child was still clutching the sweater tightly, sucking his thumb as he was tucked in. Desmond made a nest out of the various blankets he had accumulated on his runs and tucked the baby girl into the small cushioned area.

They were adorable, and he wished he could give them the mattress, but Shaun did need it because Desmond could see the pain the man was in whenever he would wake up. Of course, the man didn't explain why his back was so terrible and openly threatened to castrate him while wielding a plastic spoon. He didn't ask again after that. Of course, with Timothy in his bag and Monika in the nest, that meant he probably would sleep on the floor, even as Timothy removed the hand sucking his thumb to grab his wrist. He sighed, sitting beside the boy and at the feet of the little girl, watching them sleep. They deserved a better life.

Of which, Desmond vowed to give—

"That was impressive, Desmond."

He looked to see Lucy watching him, and he smiled. "Thanks."

She rested her head in her hand. "How did you learn to be so good with kids?"

"Huh?"

"Oh, come on," Rebecca started. "Where'd you get that talent?"

"Quite clearly, it comes from him being such a child," Shaun said with a scoff.

Desmond frowned. "Shut up, Shaun, or I'm giving them your mattress."

Shaun frowned, but said nothing more, and Desmond ran a hand through Timothy's hair, admiring the bright blonde strands. The little boy was fidgeting and squirming in his sleep, snoring softly as he kept the sweater in one arm and his wrist in the other. He leaned over and kissed the child's head, looking at them fondly. He wanted to snatch these kids up and take them back to his apartment in Manhattan—and then spoil them rotten.

Still, as he fell asleep beside Timothy on the cold stone, blatantly ignoring the others' questions because he knew that babies woke, screamed, and cried and that he needed sleep to get up and handle it, he realized he was going to fall hopelessly in love with the children under his care now.