Mable: This is a request from an anonymous off of Tumblr; another story about little 68, this time with 6. To the requester; I hope you enjoy it and I'm sorry it took so long! It's late, so I'm going to skip the long author's note and get right to the story. I don't own 9, Enjoy!

A Mama's Touch

Six wasn't scared by many things anymore. Even the nightmares he was able to quickly get past without even the bat of an optic, yet sometimes he still felt fear. Such as when Nine called from the hall with a strange tone that signaled something was wrong. He dropped everything at that moment; the drawing could be ignored, the ink was left open, and he half-heartedly wiped his hands off on his sides as he headed quickly for the next room over. Nine was coming down the hall carrying Six's small child in his arms being followed by his own children and Twenty-One.

All of the children were caked in mud while Nine had a little on his hands and feet from probably fishing them out. Mismatched optics immediately locked onto the small frame of Sixty-Eight, his young child, curled into Nine's grasp. Dirt was thick in his sharp, pen tipped fingers and into his shoveled feet. On his buckles, in his yarn; if anyone looked at him they wouldn't immediately be able to tell if he had stripes or not. The Artist reached out and scooped out his dirty child who immediately reached out to grab for and embrace his parent's neck.

Once the head was tucked into his shoulder Six looked to Nine, "What happened?" Nine actually let a little amusement come out, "They got into the mud and, well, dirt doesn't go well with marble. He slipped and landed on his knee." It was obvious that he had checked and that the knee was probably fine, but Six understood. Sixty-Eight loved to play and only sometimes was shy, but when he got injured he reverted and became inconsolable. Earlier he was probably crying and was only not doing so now because it had been a few minutes since the fall.

"Oh, Ty-eh." Six said in a soft and sympathetic manner, stroking the little one's back and sending Nine a small smile that showed there was no ill will. Children fell, especially when they were Sixty-Eight's age, and Nine was doing his best with three other children he was watching. "I wrapped up his leg!" Twenty-One decided to announce with a happy smile and Six looked down to see that a thread and nothing more had been looped around the leg and tied in a little bow. Twenty-One being the only one old enough to master making bows.

"You did a good job. Thank you, Twone." Six spoke, even if the thread probably did little to assist in a sore knee at least he had shown some initiative in healing. He was a lot like Two in that way. Nine turned to him and his set of twins, one tan with a hook and eye closure and the other white with a zipper, before speaking. "It's getting late so let's go get you cleaned, okay?" They all agreed, maybe a little sad that they had to go get cleaned, but it was getting dark outside and in the summer it got dark once it was late.

As such, this meant that it was getting awfully close to bedtime, and Six wanted to cheer up his child before that time got around. "Sixty-Eight, would you like to go bathe in the pool with them?" Usually when bathing a big group they would head to the shallow end of the pool down in the Library. However, Sixty-Eight just pressed firmer into Six's shoulder and shook his head a little. "Then I can give you a bath up here. You can help me get the water." He quickly said goodbye to the four and headed back into the storage room with his little one.

There was a pot that they kept filled of water and that was made of metal in the storage room. It would have more than enough water to do the trick, but before Six went to hoist up the pot he addressed his quiet son. "Sixty-Eight?" The little doll looked to him with a clear frown before asking, "Mama, can you kiss it better?" A smile immediately stretched across the Artist's face and he sat his son down to sit on one of the shelves beside a bottle of turpentine. He gently untied the string around the knee and leaned down to give it a gentle kiss.

"Better?" He then asked and Sixty-Eight gave a little smile, "Uh huh. My head too?" Six did so again, giving Sixty-Eight another kiss on his forehead under his mud filled hair. "Did you have fun playing outside?" He asked sweetly as he pulled back to move the pot out from the bottom shelf and onto the wooden floor. The Stitchling Pup nodded immediately, "A lot of fun! We made a Stitchpunk out of mud, but it melted, and then we had to build it again, and then Neng let us put a bunch of mud on him because he wanted to be a dirt-thing."

The Artist listened and paid attention when it was seemingly difficult to follow. He then tried to figure out how to carry the pot and Sixty-Eight and soon came to a solution. He reached out to lift the young one, "Hold on tight!" He beamed as he swung the little one over to put him on his shoulders. He remembered when he was younger and when Five, and later on Eight, would carry him around on his shoulders. With Five he'd pop up beneath him and begin carrying him around while Eight would hoist him on one shoulder easily.

Sixty-Eight was excited and his little legs and feet dangled before latching into place on the Artist's shoulders. He slid into place and wrapped his arms around Six's shoulders tightly. "I'm holding on, Mama! Let's go fast!" He suddenly became daring even though minutes before he was upset about his leg. Six loved it, he loved his son's excitability, "I'll try." He responded with a warm bit of laughter before hoisting up the pot, using his free hand to brace Sixty-Eight and keep him from falling. Then he tried to speed out of the room, weighed down by the water and as such not moving very quickly.

He heard a low chuckle from behind and realized that Eight was watching from down the hall and dropped the pot so that he could do a quick turn around and wave. Sixty-Eight added in with a, "Hi Daddy!" Six quickly faced normal and lifted the pot to head out to the throne room. Sixty-Eight was still looking back and Eight said a quick greeting and must have waved back as the little one was waving vigorously. Unfortunately Eight was busy helping Two and Five move supplies to work on the watchtower's roof with was looking a bit weaker than they wanted.

In the throne room Six led his child to the cauldron full of warm coals. It was a bit warmer than they liked during the day, but that was just because it was summer. In the spring, fall, and especially winter having a constant source of warmth was a good thing. He lifted the pot with both hands and hung it above the cauldron to let it warm while he addressed his son. "In a few minutes the water will be nice and warm." Sixty-Eight gave a frown, "Can't I keep the mud on me?" Six smiled at the comment, "But it won't be comfortable, Ty-eh, and I thought you liked to take a bath."

"But I want to play before I have to go to sleep." He insisted and Six tried to cheer him up, "You can play in the water too! Here, why don't you go get one of your toys to take in the bath?" He set Sixty-Eight down and the Stitchpunk child dashed off. He could only hope he hadn't made a mistake giving him that much power; after all, Sixty-Eight had a chance to bring something that wasn't necessarily waterproof. Either way, he tested the water, and was glad to see that it was beginning to grow warm. Once it was warm enough, not too warm for the small one's fabric, he took it off.

Carrying it into the Workshop where the large basin was kept. He filled it halfway with the warm water, prepared to add more in the future once Sixty-Eight was in it. He then went to return to the storage room to get some soap. There was an old bar in the confine of the Workshop where the Stitchpunks would scrape off what they needed for bathing. Usually they didn't need much, but when it came to Sixty-Eight, Six sort of wanted everything perfect. He loved Sixty-Eight, he wanted to keep him clean and happy.

By time he had made it back to the Workshop Sixty-Eight was already standing there with a few of his toys. One was of wood, but treated so he was sure that it would get through fine, while the two plush toys would clearly take in water. But that was okay; Six was already considering hanging them over the tub to dry afterwards. Sixty-Eight didn't look very content with the plan still and looked at the tub with distaste. The Artist still had idea on how to work with the little one though and went to kneel by the tub, using some of the shavings to work on making bubbles.

It didn't take too long to catch Sixty-Eight's attention by rustling the water. "Mama?" Sixty-Eight asked in confusion, as though he hadn't ever seen or heard Six do this before. The striped one casually explained, "I'm making bubbles. Want to help?" The little one put his toys down and headed over to his mama's side and stared down into the water. "I don't know how." He innocently replied and Six tenderly brought him to sit in front of him. "It's easy. You just take your hands," He took the small, pen tipped hands in his, "and you swish them through the water. Like this."

He brought the little one's hands around quickly and caused the small one to giggle, "It feels funny!" He pointed out and Six couldn't resist chuckling himself, pressing another warm kiss into the soft, dirty yarn of his child. He helped the little one make enough bubbles that he was sure he'd be satisfied and at the point he pulled his hands out. "Alright, time for your bath!" He hoped if he sounded pleased enough that maybe Sixty-Eight would be more amused, but the little one still slumped a bit as Six helped him into the tub and let him sit down in the water.

He cupped a handful and let it rush over Sixty-Eight's head, the small one letting out a giggle from the rivets going down his face. It was already working; every time he was presented with a bath Sixty-Eight was fussy and stubborn, until he was actually in said bath, and now he was starting to play with the bubbles, pushing them together to make a mound. Six rubbed a shaving of soap into his pen tipped hands, softening it and preparing it before going at his child's yarn. "Aww, Mama." Sixty-Eight complained, "My bubbles."

"You can do that still." Six reminded as he slowed his movements to massage his fingers in. The small Stitchling let out a soft noise of pleasure from the movement and returned to his little statue. He was so focused and Six felt a bit of pride well. Before Sixty-Eight's birth Six hadn't been a prideful Stitchpunk, but since then every little thing the child had done seemed amazing. Whether it was walking, talking, or expressing his own artistic side. Not that Sixty-Eight didn't have moments of acting just like Eight, but it was sweet when he saw some of himself in his baby.

Six cupped more water and ran it over the tiny one's head. Dirty water came from it, but the yarn cleaned considerably. He continued to work at the locks and occasionally Sixty-Eight would giggle at the tickling motion. He then began to scrub at the little one's arms and back until he could see the tiny '68' on his shoulder. Upon seeing it Six gave another little kiss to which Sixty-Eight seemed to notice and pressed against his parent affectionately. They continued this mix of cuddling and washing for a little while before Sixty-Eight spoke.

"Look! Look what I made!" He pointed to his statue of bubbles and Six looked to it. Again, he couldn't really tell what it was, but he was supportive. "You sculpted the bubbles together?" The little one nodded, "Uh huh. Do you like it?" The striped one gave another smile, "I do! It's very creative!" At this point the little one asked the dreaded question, "Do you know what it is?" Six stared at it for a few minutes before Sixty-Eight decided he couldn't wait any longer. He spoke happily, "It's Daddy!"

"Oh! I see now!" Six excused as he looked at the little mound, "It looks wonderful, Ty-eh." The small Stitchpunk then asked, "Really?" Six assured him, "You're already becoming an Artist." But the little child was confused, "But isn't that you?" He was answered by a ruffle of the yarn, "I think I might have to share the title." This seemed to please the child who continued to work, making another lump, and Six caught a moment of hearing Sixty-Eight murmuring about making one of his 'Mama'. Si made sure to slow his cleaning so that the child could finish.

Once he was clean, and most of the bubbles had popped, Six spoke, "Alright, Ty-eh, you're clean. Time to get out." The small one gave a clear frown, "Can't I stay in longer?" Six decided not to point out his sudden change of heart. "I'm sorry, but the water's getting cold and it's getting late. If you stay cold and tired you'll get ill." The small one shook his head, "I'm not tired, though." Maybe he didn't look it but Six just knew it was coming. "And I didn't play with my toys." He pointed them out when in reality he had been too busy with the bubbles to remember the toys.

"You can always take a bath tomorrow." Six reminded and now Sixty-Eight perked quite a bit at this. His parent went to retrieve a dry, warm towel at this point and he obediently stood in the tub to be dried, shivering a bit from the sudden change in temperature. Six dried him a little before simply wrapping him tightly in the cloth and lifting him easily. After all, Sixty-Eight was still small and easy to lift. He had to take advantage of this while he still could and held the tiny one close as he grabbed the toys and headed out of the Workshop, noting to come back and empty the tub later.

For now, Sixty-Eight was getting tired from the warm of the towel, cuddling into his Mama with a small yawn. At this moment Six noted that he still looked like a baby to him and doubted that the he would ever be able to see him as anything else. Even when he'd become an adult Six would still see this little baby cuddled in his arms. As he entered the child's room he dropped the toys into the box and headed over to the little bed. After a few more seconds of drying Six pulled the towel away and laid the small one down in said bed, watching as his optics began to flutter a bit.

Another sweet kiss pressed to the young one's forehead as the Artist tucked the blankets snugly around him, grabbing some plush toys off the floor around the bed to tuck beside him. "Goodnight, Ty-eh. Your Daddy and I love you. He'll be here in a while to tell you goodnight, but you might be asleep." The little one limply shook his head, "I'm going to stay up until he comes." Six doubted it, but enjoyed the sweet comment. "Then I'll wait here with you." His sharp fingers went back to stroking Sixty-Eight's head in rhythmic fashions and watching lovingly as he started to drift off.

Six was right; by time Eight arrived Sixty-Eight was already fast asleep.

FIN

Mable: Actually, this isn't a full 'FIN'. I was considering it and I'm going to do a third oneshot about 6 and 8 parenting together since I've done one with just 8 and one with just 6. Still, I hope this one is enjoyed! Oh, by the way, I have a poll regarding 'Fabric Runs Shallow' on my profile that will greatly alter the story and because of such it will be taken down in July so if you want to answer then please answer now.