AN: Hello! This is my second HTTYD fanfic, and this one came at the request of fellow author BlizzardEmmaFoxCat who wanted a story about Stoic giving a baby Hiccup a bath. They also wanted the story to be a modern-AU.
This is first story I've written that was a modern AU, so I'm kinda nervous about how it turned out. Please let me know what you think, and if you have any constructive criticism to help me improve! Thank you for reading this, and thanks BlizzardEmmaFoxCat for the request!
If you have request you'd like me to do, toss me a line!
He took her for granted.
Even before she was gone, he knew that he had.
But he never realized just how much he had taken her for granted.
It was the little things that he had never noticed.
She always had the laundry done by the time he needed it; but he had never noticed how she folded and organized his socks.
She cooked excellent meals; but he had never noticed how she arranged the food on the plate just the way he liked it.
She always kept the house clean; but he had never noticed how she managed to organize his little carvings and knick-knacks without him even realizing it.
He had never really noticed any of it before, and now it was too late to tell her just how much it all meant to him. He didn't notice just how much he took her for granted…until she was gone.
What he had taken granted for most of all though, was, ironically, how she handled the most important thing of all; their son.
Stanley "Stoic" Haddock (and yes, ever since he was little, he had been the target of jokesters ribbing him that there was something "fishy" about his last name) had admittedly not been the world's most stellar father. Oh, he loved his son more than anything, of that there was no doubt…he just didn't know how to actually handle him.
From the first time he had held the little babe (and little was an understatement, since he had been born a few months premature) and then nearly dropped him, Stanley decided to leave most of the more intimate acts of parenting up to the boy's mother, at least until he finally grew large enough to toss a baseball.
But now, the one who taken such good care of their son (and the one who had taken care of him) was gone.
And he had absolutely no clue how she had done it.
He was sure he had been there at least a few times when she had fed him, or clothed him, or changed his diaper…but like so many other things, he found that he had taken it for granted, and hadn't paid as much attention as he wished he had now.
But he trudged through. He was a stubborn man.
Unfortunately, he was learning that his 10-month old son was equally stubborn, and with lungs to match, despite his small frame.
But he was learning (slowly, mind you). He was learning how to juggle work and family. He was learning how to feed. He was learning how to clothe. He was learning how to change diapers (well, more or less…probably less).
However, he was also learning that, contrary to popular belief, babies made smells that weren't related just to said diapers.
And then he realized something else he had never taken notice of…how Val had always been the one to give their little Henry a bath.
But his helpful (meddling) in-laws sure did notice; or rather, their (uppity) noses did. His mother-in-law had ever-so-kindly "offered" to take the boy off his hands for a bit, but he was stubbornly having none of it!
He would prove to everyone that he could take care of his own son's basic needs (even if he really couldn't).
…The question was, how?
Oh, he had wiped the babe off with moist rags, and had (after much trial-and error) learned to sprinkle him with a tad of baby powder, but after several months it was apparent that all his half-measures were finally falling short. He'd have to give Henry a full-fledged bath.
He really didn't know what he was so worried about. How hard could it be?
He tried to remember if Val had used the bathtub or the sink. He seemed to vaguely recall something about babies drowning if the water was too deep (seemed logical), and decided that his wife, being the cautious one she was, probably used the sink.
Cleaning out the mountain of unwashed dishes had taken longer than he'd thought. And finding the drain plug had taken longer still.
After that, he mentally went through his checklist.
Liquid baby soap? Check.
Washcloth? Check.
Towel? Check.
Happy floaty fun-time dragon-shaped bath toy? Check.
Soon-to-be happy floaty fun-time son? Che…err… wait a moment. Where had he gone off to now-
"ACK! No! The toaster oven is NOT a toy!"
Crisis averted, Stan turned on the water and waited for the sink to fill. He then lowered his son into the water.
His son grabbed onto his beard and then proceeded to lower his father down into the water with him.
Stan realized three things. One; for such a small boy, his son had an immensely strong grip. Two; he had filled the sink up too high and water was sloshing over the sides (remember, babies drown in too much water you idiot! he mentally chided himself). And three; the water splashing on his face was cold!
Oh…wait…
After setting his wailing son down on the towel and drying him off, (how was it that a boy no larger than his forearm apparently had lungs larger than he did?) he drained the water from the sink and refilled it, being sure the water level was lower and actually checking the water temperature this time.
He began to set Henry down into the water again, this time at arm's length so he wouldn't grab the beard. But apparently his son was none-too-trusting after that first attempt, and cried out even louder (was that even possible?) for his improvised life-line. So with one hand tightly wrapped around his father's beard, and the other tightly wrapped around a rubber dragon float-toy, young Henry was lowered feet-first into the water, somewhat resembling a high-wire acrobat being lowered slowly to the ground.
Thankfully, Henry seemed to agree with his father's choice of luke-warm water temperature this time around, and after a few minutes he was gleefully splashing around with his dragon toy (though he refused to let go of the beard, which was left half in the water).
So, leaning his large girth over awkwardly so that his son could continue to hold on to his facial hair, Stan clumsily grabbed hold of the liquid soap and slathered some onto the wash cloth. Henry, he soon found out, was rather ticklish when it came to soapy rub-downs, and though the giggling boy had let go of the beard in the process, he had splashed his father's face repeatedly.
Stan was quickly learning that to give his son a bath, meant giving himself one as well.
He didn't care at all though, as this had been one of the few times since Val passed that he had actually heard his son giggle and laugh happily in that way that babies do. In fact, he realized, it may have been the first time that his son had laughed because of him.
And suddenly he was wondering if the moisture running down his cheeks and stinging his eyes was from the splashed bath water or if it was something else.
After wiping his face off with his burly arm, he proceeded to lather up his son and then use the cloth to gently wash him off. Then he reached over for the shampoo and…oh…wait…(again)
Shoot! He had forgotten the baby shampoo in the bathroom!
He wondered if he could just run out quickly and grab it?
(Toaster oven! His mind yelled)
No! No, it would be best if he stayed here.
Contemplating it a moment, he shrugged and began lathering up more of the liquid soap. After all, it wasn't like the boy had much hair to begin with anyway. How much difference could there be?
He found out after a few moments when the soap eventually got into his son's eyes and the giggles of innocence were quickly replaced by the wails of banshees.
Stan quickly tried to get past the infant's frenzied arms to wipe away the offending faux hair-product, when some of it made it down past his snotty nose and into his mouth.
The wails ceased instantly, and Stanley braced, half-in-shock and half-in-wonderment, as his son hiccupped and a perfectly round bubble of soap emerged and floated in front of them for a full five seconds before popping!
Thrice more his son repeated the action involuntarily, and thrice more the soapy spheres emerged and floated before the amused toddler and his bewildered father. By the time it was over, the boy was actually trying to hiccup more bubbles, making as many little half-gulp, half-hacking noises as he could in an effort to unleash his newfound and apparently magical powers to produce balls of oily-stained rainbows!
Stan couldn't help but laugh, and he laughed so hard that this time he knew where the moisture running down his cheeks came from.
When his son began laughing and giggling alongside him, he came to an astounding realization, one he didn't even know he had been desperately wanting, nay, needing to come to, ever since his wife had passed…
"It'll be alright my little Hiccup; everything's going to be alright now. Daddy's here," he whispered as he lovingly wiped the rest of the soap from his son's face.
Henry "Hiccup" just mewed and giggled, and Stanley knew, for the first time in a long time, that everything really would be alright, so long as he had his son to still care for.
He had taken many things for granted; but from now on, his duty as a loving parent would not be one of them.