Disclaimer: If I owned things, things would be vastly different, so no owny. :P And this is only a writer's excrise for me, so it is ub beta'ed. I would never bother my beta with this either. I will only update this when the mood strikes. :) Just needed this off my chest. Based off something my dad's best friend told me at my da's wedding. Oh! And those who are looking for my other fandom updates, look at my profile please. :)
In the Cradle
Chapter One: Ricky
Ricky was not sure who had called the school, be he was grateful. Of course, Amy would never let him into the delivery room; however, her family had forced her to allow him to be there afterwards. It had made him smug, knowing that he was here and Ben would never be. Amy had forbidden it, but she could not forbid Ricky. She never could.
So, he went to the desk where he smile sweetly at the nurse, who gave him directions and then he saw the hall where her family was conjugated. Her mom, dad and sister where looked up from their curious views into a window.
Behind the glass, just in that room, in the bassinet closest to the blocky, silver door laid his wrinkly and red son. Honestly, the baby was a little ugly right now. George, taking pity on him apparently, told him all children were that ugly when they were born the old fashioned way. Ricky snorted at the idea, but it did have merit, so he could not deny it.
The baby was breathing deeply, his head turned to the right. He had a black carpet of hair. Scrunched eyes. Red skin. Long fingers. He looked like a baby. A human, breathing, living baby.
"Hey, kid, do you want to see the baby?" George asked Ricky, motioning to the approaching nurse.
He hesitated, and then walked towards her too. She lead him to a room to wash his hands with a smile, and also forced him to put on a blue paper gown. When he asked, she said it was to keep the babies away from diseases like the flu or staph. He briefly wondered who would be so evil as to get a baby sick before he remembered. Maybe a heartless bastard like his father.
And then he was handed his son.
He weighed like nothing. Ricky was surprised again; Amy had gotten big for such a tiny guy. His nameless, newborn son laid in his arms easily. The baby was delicate, and for a moment he had the wild idea that if he was not careful, he would crush the life out of his perfect son. So fragile. How did babies ever survive? They were just so tiny, and it seemed even a mite of dust would be capable of hurting his son.
His.
Something in Ricky broke. Like rushing rapids, the tears drowned his view of his baby boy. This life would depend on him. He would depend on Ricky: to feed him, to teach him, to love him, to protect him, to be there for him. Tears dotted his baby boy's clothing.
Ricky was a man now. He would prove it to everyone – Amy, George, Adrian, Grace – everyone. This precious gift he had stumbled upon would save him.
This was his life now – his son.