flybywash | (no subject)

(no subject)

You know, with the way the bad goes in constant cycles around here, Wash is mildly surprised it hasn't overlapped before now.

It's as good a reason as any why it's taken this long to visit.

Naomi's nestled in her sling; a box under one arm and his cane in the other hand, Wash scrambles and juggles for a couple of seconds before he knocks on the door of the Tonks-Wrangle flat.

"Anybody home?" he calls.

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Wash stops.

Blinks.

Absently bounces Naomi a little as she makes a fussy noise.

"Please tell me this is a fiendish and clever disguise for the entire hospital and Bernard isn't, you know, actually that mannequin or anything."

Giggling, Nymphadora jostles Wash's shoulder a bit. "Silly. Yeah, it's a disguise. Can't have the Muggles just wandering in off the street, now can we? Present company excluded, of course."

The witch leans forward and addresses the nearest mannequin.

"We're here for Bernard Wrangle," she whispers, and the mannequin nods very slightly.

"Hi. I was just kidding about you being Bernard," Wash adds, also in an undertone, to the mannequin. He scratches the back of his head.

(What? It's alive, apparently. And maybe he just grieviously insulted it and might get smited by its plastic-y hands of justice. He's just covering all his bases.)

The mannequin appears to smirk, ever so slightly, and Nymphadora takes Wash by the elbow. "Right, so. Just... sort of ignore the fact that this is a glass window, and walk straight ahead."

"Shiny. Ignoring the window. Got it."

This does not stop him from putting a protective arm around Naomi as she shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath, and starts walking forward.

And just like that, they're in the lobby.

It looks rather a lot like any other hospital, really; probably more like what Wash might see in a Core hospital, though, than anywhere else in Nymphadora's London.

"Wotcher, Betina!" 'Dora calls to the witch on duty at the desk, and the elderly lady gives her a friendly wave back as Nymphadora, Wash, and Naomi head in the direction of the private rooms.

Wash peeks an eye open once the hospital sounds (and smells) hit him. His arm relaxes, and he opens the other eye as well with a tiny grin, following Tonks.

The last time he was in a hospital was just before New Year's; it's bizarre how much this place looks like Marcus Medical Center.

"Am I supposed to be this disappointed that this looks so normal?" he murmurs to her. "I don't think I am."

"It is normal! Well, for me anyway-- oh, watch your head, there."

A memo in the form of a paper airplane whizzes overhead.

Wash ducks, then twists around to follow the plane's progress, all but beaming.

"See, that's more like it," he declares.

"You should come to the Ministry," Tonks replies, directing him down a side corridor, and nodding to one of the Healers passing by. "Bloody things're everywhere... ah, here we are."

She raps lightly on the door before sticking her head inside.

"Are you decent, love?"

There is a pause.

Then, "Am I ever?"

Wash snorts, amused.

(And not looking in the room yet.)

"If decency ever happens, send me evidence, I've got a blackmail portfolio on everybody except you so far," he calls.

There is a rustle from the room which somehow manages to convey surprise. Then, "Ow. Wash?"

"The one and only. And..."

He takes a moment to readjust the sling, sneaking a fond smile, bright for all its quickness, at Naomi.

"I have company of the small human and adorable variety. Some slightly less adorable gifts, too."

It takes Bernard a second to process what tha means, and then he twitches all over again.

"Goddammit. You keep surprising me, and I keep jumping and it keeps hurting, so come on in and cut it out."

Wash manages to smother a snicker, but only just. "Duìbùqĭ."

That sentiment becomes rather more sincere when he edges in and actually gets a look at Bernard. Saying you look like hell would be redundant, so he doesn't, but that really doesn't make it any less true.

"Hey. How are you feeling?"

Nymphadora hefts the box onto the bedside table, and then bends over to kiss her husband. "Hi, sweetheart." And then again.

Hey. She's entitled. On a number of levels.

Softly, "Hey." Once properly kissed, Bernard smiles at Wash, his eyes flickering to the tiny hand peeking over the edge of the sling.

"I'm good. Better, now that I have visitors." He grins, a little more color coming to his face. "Who's this, then?"

"This..."

Wash takes a seat and puts his cane aside, lifting Naomi out of her sling. She makes a tiny noise of protest -- "Hey, it's okay, băobèi, shh," he whispers, kissing the top of her head as he rests her against his chest. "This is Naomi Warren-Washburne. Naomi, this is Bernard. Wanna say hi?"

'Hi,' in this case, is a solemn and marginally sleepy blink.

Bernard beams at her. "Well." His voice is a little hoarse. Pay no mind. "Already giving Sunny a run for her money as the prettiest princess in all the universes, I see."

"Isn't she beautiful?" 'Dora's settled herself next to the bed, as well, and takes Bernard's hand. "Takes after Zoe's side of the family, clearly."

He pokes her with his free hand. "Hey, now. Kid's clearly a Wrangle." He looks to Wash, blue eyes sparkling merrily. "Though if she starts repeating herself, you let us know. Because that would just be weird."

To Tonks, mildly: "Hey."

He's grinning uncontrollably.

Because they're right; she is beautiful. He'll never argue that. And she's his.

"Weird besides the general inherent weirdness of being a walking echo chamber?" he asks, hoisting her a little higher.

She's snickering. "Bernard's dad does it," she explains fondly. "On him it's pretty funny, actually, and it grows on you after a while."

"Ahhh." A sage nod. "Well, once she's talking I'll put everyone on repetitive watch and report back."

Of course, knowing him, he's going to be doing that anyway with pretty much every major milestone this kid hits.

"You up for holding her?" he asks Bernard.