Glass Shard Beach, NJ
June 01, 1952
Filbrick Pines watches as his son Sherman flips through the same magazine for the fourth time. The nine-year-old's head is resting heavily against his fist and his eyes are half-lidded in boredom, but he isn't making a fuss and Filbrick is contemplating on what might be an appropriate reward for the (considering the circumstances) good behavior. And, perhaps, he is only actually looking for a way to stave off his own boredom; the two of them have been trapped in this muggy hospital waiting room for hours, after all.
Sherman sighs loudly before tossing the magazine onto the low table in front of them. "I almos' wish I was at school, instead," the boy grouses, "At leas' the air conditioner works there." He then proceeds to make a show of pulling his sweat-dampened t-shirt away from his chest.
"Boy," Filbrick says, his tone warning enough that nothing further is needed.
"Sorry, Dad," the child immediately responds, "It's jus' so hot! ...and I'm bored."
Filbrick sighs and rubs at the bridge of his nose. He can't argue on either count. The pawnshop owner himself has not only discarded his suit jacket, but also rolled up his sleeves, loosened his tie, and even gone so far as to undo the first three buttons of his shirt. 'And still sweating like a pig,' he thinks despairingly. And, to top it off, there really is little to nothing to occupy themselves with in the room.
He stares down at Sherman long enough that the child starts to squirm under his gaze. "We'll stop for ice cream on our way home," Filbrick finally decides.
Sherman brightens immediately at the thought. "Really?" he asks, bouncing slightly in his chair.
"Hmm," Filbrick returns, the barest hint of a smile hidden beneath his mustache, "if you keep on your best manners while we wait to meet your brother."
"Yes, sir!" the boy chirps before he blinks and adds, "I thought Mom said I was getting a baby sister?"
The man shrugs. "Your mother says a lot of things."
"Yeah..." Sherman stretches the word out as he eyes his father carefully, "but normally you jus' agree with her."
A surprised snort of laughter escapes him before before he can stop it, followed by a chuckle. "Come here, you scamp." Sherman grins widely before abandoning his own chair for his father's knee. "Firstly," Filbrick begins after the boy is settled, "I 'normally just agree' with your mother because it's too much work to argue with her. And if you tell her I said that, you can kiss your allowance goodbye for a month." Sherman nods quickly, pressing a finger to his grinning lips. "And second... Your mother and I don't know if the baby will be a boy or girl, just that they're coming. We find out today."
"Oh..." the boy thinks for a second and then suggests, "Maybe I'll get both! A baby brother and a baby sister!"
"Twins?" Filbrick manages as he tries to stifle further laughter, "Don't let your mother know you're wishing that on her, knucklehead. She wouldn't appreciate the thought of having to deliver two babies instead of one."
"Why?"
"Oh... Well..."
Both of the Pines males are distracted from their conversation when a new sound is added to the background noise: namely, a very loud, high-pitched crying.
"Mister Filbrick Pines?" a harried nurse inquires as she sticks her head through the doorway.
"That's me," Filbrick responds as he quickly rises from his seat and deposits Sherman in his place, "Did something happen?"
"I'm terribly sorry, Mister Pines," the nurse rushes to explain while entering the room properly, revealing the squalling newborn she's holding, "This isn't normal procedure, but it's Sunday and we're running on a skeleton crew and I really do need to be getting back to help the doctor with the rest of the delivery. Here, this is your son. Careful, now! Support his head. We just weren't expecting two!"
Before he has had time to truly process what is happening, the nurse has successfully transferred the crying babe into Filbrick's arms and is scurrying back the way she came.
'Two?' he thinks faintly, 'We're not prepared for twins! Oh God, what if the nurse is wrong and there's more than just two?'
"Wow, he's really loud! Are all babies like this? Does this mean my baby sister is next?"
The words jolt Filbrick from his worries and back to the present. "Hmph. We'll see." The man finally tears his gaze away from the door the nurse had disappeared through and redirects it to the screaming bundle in his arms.
A grimace of disgust takes over his face. The boy is still covered in the gore of childbirth. 'They didn't even bother to clean him up before dragging him all through the hospital?' He teases a corner of the blanket free and uses it to wipe away some of the blood (and other fluids he doesn't want to think about) from his son's face.
With the loosening of the fabric, it isn't long before the wailing child works one of his arms free. "Hush now. You're safe," Filbrick mutters to the upset child while gently prying away the fingers clutching his shirt. He does his best to ignore the smeared handprint left behind. The shirt was already ruined, anyway. Probably.
Heedless of the piercing wails, Sherman edges closer to look at the baby. "Why's he so angry?"
"He's probably more scared than angry, Sherman. This is all new to him."
"Oh," Sherman gazes up at his father, "You should sing."
Filbrick blinks and then turns to look at the nine-year-old. "Excuse me?"
"You should sing," the boy repeats with a nod, "When I get scared, Mom sings, and then I feel better."
"Boy, I do not sing." Sherman looks like he might try to press the idea so Filbrick adds, "Believe me, if you'd ever heard me attempt to do so, you'd be grateful for that fact."
Sherman frowns for a moment, and then, "If you don't sing... Should I sing?"
Filbrick shrugs, bouncing his newborn son in his arms with the motion. "Not sure it'll help, but you can try."
Read the entire Dimension 297 series on Archive of Our Own: archiveofourown dot org slash series slash 457846