Title:- Bop Bop Baby
Rating:- Oh, PG-13 for swearing.
Genre:- Comedy/Crack/AU
Warnings:- Strong Language, I guess
Fandom:- Green Street Hooligans
Characters:- Pete Dunham, Dave Biano and Bovver
Summary:- When Pete's ex-girlfriend leaves him with a baby for 8 hours, who will come out on top – the baby, or the GSE?
Authors Notes:- It's all Claire's fault. BLAME HER.
"What is it?" Bovver peered into the little basket, staring at the baby laid inside with a mixture of disdain and curiosity on his face. "Smells like sh-"
"It's a baby, and no fuckin' swearing," Pete replied, elbowing Bovver in the side. The baby opened it's eyes and seemed to stare back at them. "Aw, she's sweet."
"What makes you think it's a she?" Bovver was doubtful. To him babies meant child support, dirty nappies and late nights. He was becoming severely concerned that Pete was turning maternal on him.
"Well, the pink blanket? Kinda gives it away," Pete stated, then stepped back. "Man she does stink!"
"So? What d'you want me to do about it?" They looked at one another for a moment, then Pete grinned.
"Phone the lads, tell 'em we've got a surprise for them." Bovver scowled and went into the hallway to make the phone call, leaving Pete to look at the little girl. She gurgled, drooling a little out of the side of her tiny mouth and he giggled, mopping it up with the corner of her blanket. He knew Emma was a bad shag from the start, but he'd never realised that gonorrhea wasn't going to be the only thing he got left with after sleeping with her. She'd appeared, handed the baby over and told Pete she'd be back at 6 after her mum's birthday party. Pete hadn't managed to get more than a few wordless noises out before she'd flounced off, and now he was stuck with a baby for... seven hours, ninteen minutes and twelve seconds.
"Dave says does 'e need to bring beer?" Pete glanced at the baby then nodded, looking a little folorn. He was about to turn back to the little girl when she let out an ear-splitting shriek that rendered him deaf and blind for a few seconds, by which time Bovver had let out a string of expletives and the whole of the pink blanket was now brown. "What the shitting fuck was that?"
Pete peeked over the edge of the basket and recoiled. "Crap." He hunted briefly for the bag that Emma had dropped off with the baby and opened it, holding one hand over one ear to protect it from the noise the baby was making.
"Pete! There's somethin' wrong with your kid," Bovver told him, now finished making phone calls and staring bleakly at the little girl.
"Really? I hadn't noticed!" Pete pushed past him and picked her up gingerly, avoiding getting poo all over his t-shirt – until she kicked her legs in sheer frustration and gave him a generous dousing in it. Pete hurriedly put her in the sink, peeling his t-shirt off and lobbing it into the sink with her. He started fighting with her baby-gro, tugging at the poppers that were far too small for his clumsy fingers until Bovver walked in, grabbed the collar and pulled the whole thing open. They looked at one another, a look of panic going between them, and then Pete lifted her out of the baby-gro, giving Bovver time to pull it out of the sink and throw it into a carrier bag. "Just the nappy to go."
"Oh mate you are on your own with that," Bovver told him, tying the bag off with a sigh of relief and abandoning it on the worksurface before stalking back into the living room. Pete sighed and undid the dirty nappy, gagging as he fought it into a nappy bag and tied that up before throwing it into the bin. He heard the front door open and hoped it would be reinforcements, then glanced up to see Bovver bidding a hasty retreat. He tutted but swallowed his anger and turned back to the naked little girl, who was smiling now, banging a spoon against the sink and making baby noises loudly. She saw him looking at her and made a noise that sounded like a giggle, and he couldn't help but laugh a little.
He ran the tap, turning it so it was away from her and flowing down the waste disposal until he thought it was a suitable temperature, then turned it back so it was like a miniature shower for her. She giggled harder and banged the spoon, and Pete smiled, washing the poo off her as quick as he could. Then he realised he'd left the bag in the living room and had no towel. "Shit," he whispered, looking down at her. She held the spoon out towards him, and he saw her big, blue eyes, perfect mirrors of his own, staring up at him. He picked her up and she abandoned the spoon with a clatter, resting her chubby arms on his shoulder and watching the kitchen disappear as he made for the living room to find her some clothes.
She screamed hysterically, laughing and gurgling to herself as he passed the West Ham flag. "There's my girl," he said, and she beat on the back of his shoulder as she laughed. "An' what do we sing? I'm forever blowin' bubbles, pretty bubble in the air," he started dancing around, holding her at arms length as he sang raucously. "They fly so high, they touch the-"
"What the hell are you doin'." Pete stopped and pulled the baby close again before turning around to see Dave and Bovver stood in the doorway looking at him.
"What? She likes the Hammers," he said proudly, and she gurgled a giggle, pointing at Dave. "Say 'ello to Uncle Dave and miserable shit Bovver," he said, and Dave waved to her while Bovver frowned. "Ain't she cute?"
"No." Bovver slumped onto the sofa and Dave just gave him a look.
"Yeah mate, really cute. What's her name?" Dave asked, stepping closer and holding his finger out to the baby. She grabbed it and tugged, giggling as it clicked and laughing harder as he shook his hand in pain.
"I dunno, Emma didn't say. Where're the others?"
"They busy, but they'll be along later, don't worry," Dave replied, watching the little girl intently. She stared back defiantly, and Dave laughed. "She's definitely yours, son."
"Yeah. Ain't she cute?"
"I ain't saying nothing. Believe me. Red's sister turned up with this fuck ugly little baby, an' I can't stand her anyway, an' so I told her that the kid was ugly. I slept on the sofa for a month. I don't answer that kind of question any more," Dave said with a laugh, then noticed the bag on the floor. "Don't you think we should put somethin' on her? I mean, bunch of blokes all around and she's flashin' the lot of us."
"I don't think she's old enough to quite understand modesty, Dave," Pete stated with a smirk, not realising that the baby was creating a tasteful mound of drool on his shoulder.
"Yeah, right. Oooh! Look! This is cute!" Dave held up a little pink dress with big purple flowers on it, and a tiny pair of cream tights, and Pete smiled.
"She'd look cute in that! See if there's a little cardy to match, then grab a nappy and we'll do this thing."
"Pair. Of. Poofs."
"Sod off, Bov." Dave held the nappy in front of his face, then shook his head and turned it around. He repeated this several times until the nappy was back how it started and he was even more confused. "'Ow d'you get this thing on?" Pete laid the baby carefully down on the changing mat and looked at the nappy as though it was about to leap onto his face and suffocate him.
"Well, you... Like this... No... More like..." He took the nappy and repeated the process that Dave had been through just a few moments previously. The baby laughed, a dirty giggle that only babies and toddlers can get away with without being admitted for sectioning. Pete glared at the nappy, and Dave just looked utterly hopeless.
"You pair of stupid bastards," Bovver said angrily, getting up and turning the nappy around. "'Er legs go through them holes, and it does up 'round 'er middle there. Remember to put some of that weird cream on before, too." Then he retreated back to the sofa and continued to look miserable. Dave looked at Pete and mouthed 'cream?' then started rummaging through the bag again, smiling triumphantly as he found the Sudocream.
Pete, meanwhile, had managed to get the back of the nappy under the baby, holding her feet like Shannon held Ben's, before liberally applying the cream that Dave offered. He then did the nappy up tightly and held the baby up, gently shaking her up and down. "Stays on and everything!" he said proudly, laying her back down before giving Dave a high-five.
"Right. Good. Now, 'ow do we get the clothes on her?" They both leant over the baby, who was still giggling at them both, and then looked at the tiny clothes.
"Tights first, right?"
"Right, yeah." Dave handed Pete the tiny hosiery and then glanced back at Bovver. "Any words of wisdom, Oh Wise One?"
"Oh no, this is you fucking problem," Bovver responded, and Dave flipped him the bird before turning back to Pete, who had succeeded in getting on leg in the tights but was having trouble holding her other leg still.
"Hold 'er foot," Pete instructed Dave, who did so and allowed the second leg to be rolled on. Then they both looked at the dress blankly. "That's the front."
"Why's that the front?"
"'Cause it's got a pocket on it."
"Ah. Okay, that's the front, then," Dave agreed, and put the front of the dress against her chest. "Right, you pick 'er up, I'll do the back up. On the count of three, one, two, three!" Pete picked the wriggling baby up and Dave snapped the poppers together, smiling proudly. "There, done!"
"Just the little cardigan now, and we're done." Pete put the tiny knitwear on the baby and they sat back, admiring their work.
"She's really cute, mate."
"Ain't she? But then, look at 'er dad."