flybywash | (no subject)

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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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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.

Bernard bites his lip and rotates his wrists experimentally. "Reckon so."

To 'Dora, sotto voce. "Be ready to catch."

Her grin widens. She's ready, but she's confident he won't need it.

Better every day.

Between their respective injuries, it takes some maneuvering, and a bit more time than the other baby hand-offs he's done since June.

But soon enough, Naomi's settled in her great-great-great...

Well. Lots of greats-grandfather's arms.

She bats the air with one tiny fist and makes a face at him.

Bernard makes a face right back, and lets her catch his finger in a tight grip.

"Ready to kick my ass already, I see," he chuckles.

He doesn't have an issue with cursing in front of children.

"Well, a person's gotta be tough to live in space," 'Dora says solemnly, meeting Naomi's still-unfocused gaze. "And I think she fits the bill."

"Of course she does." A teasing smirk at Tonks. "If she takes after my wife that much."

"How is Zoe?" Bernard queries, his eyes flickering away from Naomi for only a second. "Everything went okay?"

"Shi a." Wry, but proud. "I think I ended up more terrified of the whole thing than she did -- which is not to say that I didn't end up with this whole hand black and blue and other fun and unnatural colors."

He holds up his right hand and wiggles it in demonstration.

Bernard snorts, and Naomi's mouth forms a tiny, round O.

"'Dora hexed me accidentally." He notices Naomi's fascination, and mimics her, his voice going all funny like it does when you talk to infants. "What? What? What is so shocking, young lady?"

Naomi just gapes.

"Oh, as if that mug of yours isn't enough of a shock," she teases, and runs a finger down Naomi's cheek. "Look at those pretty eyes. You are gonna be such a knockout. I can hear my son's heart palpitating already."

Then she straightens, and blinks, as what she's just said sinks in.

"Er. I mean. No, no palpitating whatsoever. None."

Wash chokes.

With dignity.

...Okay, with nothing resembling dignity whatsoever.

"Can we maybe enact a few safeguards to ensure that I don't end up my own grandpa?" he splutters.

Bernard is staring at Nymphadora with an expression of horror that is nearly identical to Wash's.

Of course.

"Well. I think you just put me off my food for life."

"I didn't mean it like that! And anyway it's not like they're close relations, in a generational sense, it's more the- the loopy continuity thing that's the issue!"

"So!" Wash interjects with cheerfully manic desperation. "I mentioned presents, right? I have presents!"

He dives for the box.

"Yes! Presents! Preferably involving tequila!" Bernard replies, shifting Naomi so 'Dora can take her.

She takes the baby, kissing her forehead and setting her in the crook of one arm. "Silly boys," 'Dora whispers, rocking Naomi gently. "No faith at all, at all."

Sadly, there's no tequila in the get-well package the Serenity crew put together for Bernard.

What there is, however: a small box of Chinese doughnuts, an orange, a geisha bobblehead doll, a small stuffed frog, and a modest selection of hardcopy newsfeeds.

(One of the seams on the stuffed frog has slitted open an inch. Simon, once he realized that River was trying to hide a set of lockpicks inside the toy, judiciously removed them.)

There's also a huge and rather glittery handmade card, done up in calligraphy ink by Mal and signed by the entire crew.

"Groovy," Bernard breathes, looking through the gifts one by one and finally lifting the bobblehead doll and snickering. "Gosh. I'll have to-- have Mike give them free drinks, sometime."

Barely a hitch.

"Ooooh." The witch picks up the frog, and makes a kissing noise as she presses it to Naomi's cheek. "Why do I think this is gonna end up in one of our kids' possession?"

"Hey, what can I tell you, our get-well gifts take a well-rounded and multifaced approach." Serene.

Naomi gurgles. One flailing hand connects with the frog, purely by accident, and immediately latches on.

"Oh! You've got me! How can I withstand such a forceful assault?"

Says the Auror.

Bernard rolls his eyes fondly and slips his arm around her. "Hopeless."

Wash sets his chin in his hand and, for a second, just grins.

He suddenly feels weirdly young, sitting here and watching them.

It's easy to pick out bits of himself and Zoe in Naomi (Zoe more often than not, because, like he said once, even his wife's genes can beat him up in a fair fight); some of his mom and dad, too, here and there. There's none of Bernard and Tonks, as far as he can tell -- but, hey, it's got that five hundred year gap to contend with.

And who knows? Maybe it'll show up eventually.

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the-woodpecker.livejournal.com - 2006-07-13 03:09 (UTC) - Expand

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