A/N: First of all, some replies to my wonderful reviewers:
To Prototypicality: I'm not so sure of your definition of cooking my dear. I do believe the only thing Shane was permitted to do was mix three ingredients into a bowl – although admittedly one of the ingredients was an egg and they can be tricky bastards. Knight has no intentions whatsoever of letting him anywhere near the stove or anything more complicated than packet mix. On the other hand, if the idea of Knight cooking works for you, you should keep an eye out for a fic from Black666Hunter which I do believe will involve a similar vein… it may even involve a cooking show, who knows!
To DarkHunter643: And I am glad to hear it brightened your day! I wouldn't worry too much though. Astro is definitely a Marvel guy as well. In my headcanon, he grew up wanting to be Captain America and/or Ant Man but seeing as I'm currently obsessed with the Avengers, I thought it would be very unsubtle of me to include Avengers references in an MR fic.
And to my guest reviewer(s?): You have me very confused! I'm trying to work out if you are someone I haven't met before who's left me three (very kind) reviews. Or three separate someones on three different occasions. Or you could be someone I do know who just forgot to log in or even three different people I know who each forgot to log in one time. Very confused! Either way, thank you. I'm sorry I can't reply to you personally. The comment about finishing school makes me think I perhaps do know you but I could be wrong. Congratulations! Finishing school is a very exciting time. I promise Jack will be back. Definitely not in this story cause that would be weird but there will be a third part to the confessions arc. I only ever write one story at a time to ensure that I finish them but he will be back later! I'm very glad you like him that much! And Rufus should what? I've recently been having some rather interesting conversations about exactly what Shane, Knight and Rufus ought to get up to if that's what you're hinting at. Again, definitely not in this story but I wouldn't entirely rule it out for the future. And of course, Happy Birthday!
I'm very sorry the boys keep dancing around each other. The way I see it is, before Beth was born, Knight would always use sex as a means of forgetting. It was physical and nothing more. But now, with the baby here and being forced to spend lots of time together with clothes on, he's becoming more aware of the fact that there might be feelings involved and once there's feelings involved, it can't just be casual sex and it can't be not-casual sex cause then he has to deal with it. Hence, no sex for the time being. Knight wants to. He just doesn't really want to want to if that makes sense. Schofield on the other hand is significantly better adjusted, fully prepared for sex, feelings and everything that implies but he's also a really nice guy so he's patient, waiting for Knight to come to him. Slowly, slowly catch a monkey. But that doesn't mean he won't tease him...
I hope that explains a little the slow progression between them. This isn't like my other series where both male characters in the pairings had had some time to come to terms with sexuality beforehand and then feelings. Schofield and Knight are trying to deal with a crisis of sexuality, falling in love and having a baby all at the same time so it's not going to be easy on them. On the other hand, they've got a whole lot of backstory from before Beth was born that's pretty much all sex and trying to pretend feelings don't exist that we've yet to really cover. We're going to cover a bit of that today but only briefly. Not to worry though, it won't be long, neither of them are that patient!
This is a seriously long note, sorry! Only one more thing: seeing as this is fanfic I can't actually register for NaNoWriMo but I think i'll do it unofficially anyway. Ergo, I plan on finishing this story by the end of November. Dunno if that'll actually happen but I'm going to try. Finished before Christmas at the latest! Wish me luck!
Okay, now story time.
Chapter 14
Enforced medical leave, it turned out, had its benefits. One of which was plenty more time to spend with his daughter. The next morning, Shane Schofield washed down a handful of painkillers with the leftover pancakes – they weren't half bad cold – and went to fetch Beth. Having reached the grand milestone of one week old, she was due for her very first doctor's check-up. When he went into her nursery, she was already awake and waving her tiny hands, curled tight into fists, around. As far as Shane could tell, she wasn't quite yet aware that they were a part of her but they were certainly keeping her entertained as she tried to track their movements with alert eyes. Shane couldn't put words to how grateful he felt every time her bright blue eyes latched onto his own or tried to follow something – her curiosity was far more advanced than her body, to her immense frustration – having considered the possibility she might never have done so.
He scooped her up and deposited her on the change table where she promptly tried to wriggle off, quite a feat seeing as she hadn't yet developed control over her limbs. Chuckling to himself, Shane held her down gently, he could still clasp her body in one hand, fingers splayed across her tummy but probably not for much longer at the rate she was growing. Her tummy was rounder every day and her legs chubbier – all the better to kick with. With his other hand, he efficiently swiped her belly button with an antiseptic wipe and changed her diaper.
Shane Schofield was a fast learner.
With Beth all freshly cleaned and smelling like talcum powder, he shimmied her into a plain white t-shirt and a pair of pale orange overalls with matching white daisies on the pockets. Knight had read somewhere that extremely bright colours could be overwhelming and confusing at the least for a newborn and at worst, downright damaging for their developing eyesight.
Shane thought it was probably nonsense.
He still made sure to dress her in pastels though.
When he took her through the lounge and into the kitchen, he found that there was no bounty hunter asleep on his couch as expected.
Schofield just shrugged as he prepared the formula.
"One step forward, two steps back," he said to Beth as he fed her breakfast.
The morning after that fateful night so many months ago now, Shane had woken to the warm, solid weight of Knight beside him, breathing softly, and vaguely pleasant pain still lingering in his limbs and other places it was too early to think about. On the surface, it was perfect post-coital bliss but he only had to drag himself back to the edges of awareness to identify the problem with the scene.
Knight's muscles were tense and his breathing too shallow to be truly sleeping.
All the same, his eyes were firmly shut and if he felt Schofield shift in the bed, he didn't give any visible sign. Not so much as a flicker of an eyelid.
Knight had always had a mean poker face.
Shane contemplated rolling back over, falling back into easy sleep and simply ignoring him. Instead, he slipped from the bed and went to brew a pot of coffee and allowed Knight the option to continue pretending to sleep with his dignity intact.
A few minutes later, Knight padded softly into the kitchen just as Shane put a second cup under the drip. He looked remarkably like a panther on the prowl, barely contained danger.
"Morning," Shane said as cheerfully as he dared and received no reply for his trouble. He surveyed Knight over the top of his cup. "So… This is awkward."
Again, Knight kept his silence other than a low growl at the back of his throat that should have warned Shane to back off but almost foolhardy determination had always been one of Schofield's better characteristics. So instead, he set the coffee mug down just as Knight reached over to snag the other one and said seriously, "I think this has reached the point where we need to talk about this like the mature, civilised adults we are.
"Preferably in a non-violent manner," he added when Knight's face clouded over like a breaking storm.
"Nothing to talk about," Knight said gruffly into his coffee, not meeting Shane's eye.
Shane shrugged his shoulders good naturedly and continued calmly, "I think there is."
Silence reigned in the small kitchen for a long moment until Schofield said softly, "I don't do the casual fuck thing, Knight. So what are we doing here?"
"I'm not a queer," Knight shot back immediately, voice rough from more than just the early morning.
"I didn't say you were," Shane replied gently, "This is confusing for me too. Hell, I was pretty damn sure I was exclusively for team female until you decided to break in here. So let's not get caught up on labels here yet. I like this."
Schofield took a mouthful of the hot liquid, felt is scald his tongue, stalling for a minute more to get his thoughts in order.
"But I'd like more," he concluded tentatively.
Throughout, Knight's expression hadn't visibly changed but Schofield could still sense the change. It was as though the clouds had darkened and shutters had gone up behind his eyes – visible but tinted through the amber lenses.
"Well I don't," Knight practically spat back, voice rising in volume, "I don't want to be a part of that freak show."
With that, he slammed the mostly full cup of coffee down, spilling it over the counter top and stalked out the door.
"Well that went well," Schofield had said to himself sardonically and began to mop up the mess.
Three weeks after that, Shane opened the apartment door to find him standing there again, looking repentant but also like he would jump out of his skin at the slightest provocation. Shane let him in.
Let him fuck him hard and held him afterwards as he shook himself apart.
The next morning, a mug got smashed and Knight stormed out again.
It was after that, that Schofield finally okay'd himself to return to active service and naturally, the first place he ended up was a carrier ship literally in the middle of a non-existent place named Hell and half-eaten alive by gorillas as the powers that be betrayed him once again.
He really ought to review his trust mechanisms.
Those trust mechanisms which were put even further to the test when he returned home to find Knight on his building's doorstep in the pouring rain and looking like a drowned rat.
Apparently, the neighbours had been keeping an eye on him for days. The little old lady across the hallway thought he looked shady.
Apparently, he knew all the particulars of Schofield's highly classified mission.
This time, Shane could feel Knight's hands actually shake when they touched him.
They shook with the realisation he might never have touched him again.
They shook because then, in the face of human frailty and stark reality, he couldn't deny that the thought of never touching him again frightened him.
That he needed the person he was touching and not just the touch itself.
This time, a chair was thrown at a wall and Knight swore he was never coming back.
The next time Shane Schofield laid eyes on Aloysius Knight, he couldn't even punch him because he had his arms full with a newborn but dammit, he would have liked to.
One step forward, two steps back.
Hence why Knight's disappearances didn't give him any cause for concern yet. He needed the time to get his head around things and Schofield was just glad none of his belongings were being destroyed in the process.
All the same, he had thought Knight might have wanted to come along to Beth's first check-up.
But they were running short of time and couldn't wait for him to return. So instead, he prepared the paraphernalia involved in taking Beth anywhere outside the house and strapped her into the stroller so they could wander down slowly to the Newborn Care Clinic two blocks away.
When they arrived, he wasn't surprised to find he was the only unaccompanied male there.
There were plenty of fathers, sitting restlessly beside their respective women, uncomfortable in what was the clear domain of women.
There were plenty of other males as well but they were generally wearing bonnets and booties and throwing rattles from prams.
The waiting room itself was one noisy, busy, bustling place. There were infants of all sizes, ranging from those as tiny as Beth – one of which still had nasal prongs connected to an oxygen canister, overlarge and harsh against his tiny frame and paper-thin skin – to a couple beginning to toddle on unsteady legs with frantic mother's chasing after them. There were nappies and exposed breasts and the constant, ear-piercing wail. Shane was glad they didn't have long to wait.
Twenty minutes later, a large African-American woman ushered them into one of the small examination rooms. She looked frazzled.
Schofield could understand how this job might make anyone frazzled.
The nurse – a quick glance at her name badge over her ample bust said her name was Alice - was brisk and perfunctory, stripping Beth of her clothing and nappy and laying her out on the exam table whilst she tapped at her reflex points, listened to her breathing and measured her heartbeat.
The whole time, Shane was offering a silent prayer to a god he didn't believe in that Beth wouldn't do anything inappropriate like pee on the equipment – but then again, he supposed that probably wasn't an uncommon occurrence around here.
For a moment, Schofield was suddenly extremely grateful for his own job. The only bodily fluid he had to handle was blood and at least that didn't smell.
As it turned out, Beth was remarkably well behaved, even only letting out a small whine when the cold metal of the stethoscope touched her bare skin. That was, until the nurse went to take her measurements.
The nurse deposited her on the scale, tugging gently at each of her limbs before turning around to write the numbers down on her chart. As she did so, Shane saw Beth begin to wriggle out of the corner of his eye. It was a wriggle he was immensely familiar with. She would shuffle on her back – the movement reminded him startlingly of the killer whales at Wilkes; he tried not to think about Wilkes – and when she'd built up enough momentum, she would roll over almost involuntarily.
Which wasn't normally a problem because a) she was usually on the ground and b) Schofield or Knight or both of them were usually keeping a close eye on her and could rescue her once she got stuck like that.
With her lying on top of the scales, on top of the bench, a fair way off the ground, this was perhaps a problem.
"Excuse me," Shane said from the chair he had been directed to in the corner of the room, "I think she's trying to roll over."
The nurse turned back to face him, surveying him condescendingly over the thin wire half-rimmed glasses she wore half-way down her nose.
"Honey," she said in the voice Shane suspected she reserved especially for first time parents, "Week old babies can't roll over."
Schofield was going to correct her but she'd already turned back to the scales. Thankfully, just in time as Beth decided to demonstrate exactly how well she could roll over but instead of falling to the floor, she merely rolled up against the warm bulk of the woman's stomach.
At that moment, Shane really wished Knight was there to see it because the look on the nurse's face and her surprised exclamation were priceless.
He resisted the urge to say 'told you so.' Instead, he sat there very well behaved whilst the nurse told him that she was still underweight and her heart rate was faster than average but that given her prematurity, neither were issues to worry about yet, come back in a month and things ought to have sorted themselves out by then. Because Beth was premature, she had a fair bit of extra growing to do in order to catch up with her term counterparts. In fact, at one week old, she hadn't even technically reached her gestational age yet so really, he didn't need to worry.
Shane thought that they really should reconsider the fruitless action of telling new parents not to worry.
From his experience so far, worrying was all they did.
All in all though, it was an encouraging experience to see her growth quantifiable measured. From under five pounds and fifteen inches long at birth, she had gained an impressive one pound and two and a half inches, leaving her a solid six pounds, seventeen and a half inches, right on track for her gestational age.
Beth got a stamp in her records and Shane got some reassurance that he was at least doing something right.
The walk back home was pleasant enough in the afternoon sunlight. It was shaping up to a beautiful summer. The lazy heat however, was more than enough to make both of them drowsy and it wasn't long after they arrived back at the apartment that Beth was well and truly settled for an afternoon nap. Actually, Shane had also been contemplating an afternoon kip on the couch when the whirlwind fondly known as Aloysius Knight stormed his way back in and hustled Schofield backwards across the room and up against the kitchen bench, right in his personal space.
"How do you do this to me," he said through clenched teeth. His eyes shone with what looked disturbingly like pain and his hands, where they tangled in Schofield's shirt none too gently, were rough but shaking almost imperceptibly. "It's like you're under my skin."
"I can't stop thinking about you," Knight said against Schofield's lips before slamming them together.