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scriveynerTitle: hold this
Fandom: Samurai Flamenco
AU: Babyfic
Characters/Pairing: Gotou/Masayoshi, Keiko, Masanori
Rating: T
Length: 1159
Summary: "Your daddy doesn't mean to be an idiot, he loves you very much."
Gotou still wasn’t used to the new apartment.
It seemed gigantic in comparison to the studio he’d spent the better part of several years in, and he still felt marginally out of place here. Of course, there were many other things to distract from the enormity of the change in his housing … one of the biggest was currently squirming in his arms, a little put out at the diaper change.
“Keiko,” Gotou said distractedly, infant daughter supported in one arm as he disposed of the soiled mess in the bin. “Don’t chew on my sweatshirt.” She ignored him, and when he shifted his arm so that her tiny arms and head weren’t within biting range of his neck, she grabbed the shoestring that hung from his neck and yanked it, before sticking it in her mouth. Fortunately, Gotou had thought to add a second knot on the string so she couldn’t yank the shoestring tight and almost strangle him again, and he let her chew as he surveyed the room, looking for the pacifier she’d thrown at his head when he put her on the changing table.
(She was a little spitfire, he’d give her that. Definitely the Masayoshi in her.)
“You are gonna be trouble,” he grunted, locating the pacifier and picking it up. Immediately Keiko stuck out both her hands and whined, the shoestring from Gotou’s hooded sweatshirt still in her mouth, but he ignored her. “Gotta wash it off, little thing,” he said.
As he was straightening up, a loud wail sounded from the living room. Gotou started and straightened quickly, tucking Keiko against him securely. “Sounds like daddy’s in trouble,” he said, as Keiko stared wide-eyed up at him, tears already gathering in the corners of her eyes as well. If Masanori kept howling like that, she would start bawling too. “Let’s go see, okay? Don’t cry, don’t cry…”
The changing table was in the baby’s shared room, directly across from his and Masayoshi’s room. It was a bit of a wonder to Gotou that they *had* a proper bedroom, but wasn’t something he thought on as he hurried into the main room, Keiko in one arm, the dirty pacifier in his hand.
Masayoshi was standing near the far wall, where a bookshelf-slash-display case sat. He had Masanori in his arms and was trying unsuccessfully to soothe the baby, whose face had gone red and splotchy as he cried. Masayoshi looked up as Gotou entered, and his face was panicked and he looked like he was about to cry.
“What happened?” Gotou asked, setting the sniffling Keiko down in playpen that Ishihara had got them as an apartment-warming present. She immediately pulled herself to her feet and held on to the side, eyes wide and mouth open indignantly, as Gotou set the pacifier on the table and walked to Masayoshi.
“Hush, hush little bird, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Masayoshi was saying quickly, bouncing Masanori and keeping him tucked to his chest, chin over his head. “I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”
“Masayoshi,” Gotou said, and held out his hands. After a moment, Masayoshi closed his eyes then handed Masanori over, who immediately wailed louder, being separated from his favorite person ever, and started kicking and sobbing. Gotou winced but didn’t return the baby, which was a good thing because Masayoshi rubbed his hands over his eyes and sat down on the floor hard. He let out a choked noise that might have been a sob, but it was hard to tell over Masanori’s variable pitch. “Hey,” Gotou said, and shifted the baby. “Don’t you cry, too.”
“I’m a horrible parent,” Masayoshi moaned, and covered his face in his hands.
“Shh, shhhh,” Gotou said into Masanori’s shock of light blond hair. “Shh, baby boy, it’s okay.” He crouched in front of Masayoshi, and put his hand on Masayoshi’s shoulder. “Don’t say that,” he said firmly, hand cradling Masanori’s head. “You are not.”
Masanori had quieted a little — he was still crying but he was wearing himself out as he did so, tears and snot streaked down his face and guaranteeing that Gotou’s favorite sweatshirt was due another wash today. “I whacked him into the bookshelf,” Masayoshi said softly, from behind his hands.
Gotou considered this. “Okay, maybe a *little,*” he said, and this time Masayoshi *definitely* sobbed, and Gotou sighed and whapped his shoulder. “You’ll get him wailing again, stop that.”
“We were playing airplane,” Masayoshi said, voice a little ragged. “You have to start with an airplane, he’s too young to pilot a transforming robo—”
“You weren’t watching where you were going and you flew him into the corner of the bookshelf,” Gotou finished, and sighed. He shifted Masanori again, gone mostly quiet now, and checked his head thoroughly. No damage to be seen, and he kissed the top of Masanori’s head, then rocked forward and kissed the top of Masayoshi’s. “He’s fine, ‘yoshi. He’s your son, he’s got a hard head.”
Masayoshi nodded a little, and Gotou smiled. “He’s worn out from crying though, want to put him down for his nap, or catch Keiko?”
Masayoshi wiped his eyes and leaned over, to look past Gotou. Keiko had heard her name and looked up, busted, as she climbed halfway up the table in the pursuit of her pacifier. “Keiko-chan!” Masayoshi said, alarmed that she was loose, and Keiko proceeded to climb the rest of the way atop the dining room table.
“She’s all yours,” Gotou said, standing, as Masayoshi surged to his feet and darted over to the table, while Keiko wobbled on two legs, arms pinwheeling. “C'mon little bird,” he said, using Masayoshi’s favorite nickname for their son. “Let’s go wipe your face and put you down for your nap, okay? Your daddy doesn’t mean to be an idiot, he loves you very much.”
Masanori made a disgruntled, tired sound into Gotou’s shirt, as Gotou walked him back toward the baby’s room. At least there was plenty more room to walk around, here.
Fandom: Samurai Flamenco
AU: Babyfic
Characters/Pairing: Gotou/Masayoshi, Keiko, Masanori
Rating: T
Length: 1159
Summary: "Your daddy doesn't mean to be an idiot, he loves you very much."
Gotou still wasn’t used to the new apartment.
It seemed gigantic in comparison to the studio he’d spent the better part of several years in, and he still felt marginally out of place here. Of course, there were many other things to distract from the enormity of the change in his housing … one of the biggest was currently squirming in his arms, a little put out at the diaper change.
“Keiko,” Gotou said distractedly, infant daughter supported in one arm as he disposed of the soiled mess in the bin. “Don’t chew on my sweatshirt.” She ignored him, and when he shifted his arm so that her tiny arms and head weren’t within biting range of his neck, she grabbed the shoestring that hung from his neck and yanked it, before sticking it in her mouth. Fortunately, Gotou had thought to add a second knot on the string so she couldn’t yank the shoestring tight and almost strangle him again, and he let her chew as he surveyed the room, looking for the pacifier she’d thrown at his head when he put her on the changing table.
(She was a little spitfire, he’d give her that. Definitely the Masayoshi in her.)
“You are gonna be trouble,” he grunted, locating the pacifier and picking it up. Immediately Keiko stuck out both her hands and whined, the shoestring from Gotou’s hooded sweatshirt still in her mouth, but he ignored her. “Gotta wash it off, little thing,” he said.
As he was straightening up, a loud wail sounded from the living room. Gotou started and straightened quickly, tucking Keiko against him securely. “Sounds like daddy’s in trouble,” he said, as Keiko stared wide-eyed up at him, tears already gathering in the corners of her eyes as well. If Masanori kept howling like that, she would start bawling too. “Let’s go see, okay? Don’t cry, don’t cry…”
The changing table was in the baby’s shared room, directly across from his and Masayoshi’s room. It was a bit of a wonder to Gotou that they *had* a proper bedroom, but wasn’t something he thought on as he hurried into the main room, Keiko in one arm, the dirty pacifier in his hand.
Masayoshi was standing near the far wall, where a bookshelf-slash-display case sat. He had Masanori in his arms and was trying unsuccessfully to soothe the baby, whose face had gone red and splotchy as he cried. Masayoshi looked up as Gotou entered, and his face was panicked and he looked like he was about to cry.
“What happened?” Gotou asked, setting the sniffling Keiko down in playpen that Ishihara had got them as an apartment-warming present. She immediately pulled herself to her feet and held on to the side, eyes wide and mouth open indignantly, as Gotou set the pacifier on the table and walked to Masayoshi.
“Hush, hush little bird, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Masayoshi was saying quickly, bouncing Masanori and keeping him tucked to his chest, chin over his head. “I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry, I’m sorry-”
“Masayoshi,” Gotou said, and held out his hands. After a moment, Masayoshi closed his eyes then handed Masanori over, who immediately wailed louder, being separated from his favorite person ever, and started kicking and sobbing. Gotou winced but didn’t return the baby, which was a good thing because Masayoshi rubbed his hands over his eyes and sat down on the floor hard. He let out a choked noise that might have been a sob, but it was hard to tell over Masanori’s variable pitch. “Hey,” Gotou said, and shifted the baby. “Don’t you cry, too.”
“I’m a horrible parent,” Masayoshi moaned, and covered his face in his hands.
“Shh, shhhh,” Gotou said into Masanori’s shock of light blond hair. “Shh, baby boy, it’s okay.” He crouched in front of Masayoshi, and put his hand on Masayoshi’s shoulder. “Don’t say that,” he said firmly, hand cradling Masanori’s head. “You are not.”
Masanori had quieted a little — he was still crying but he was wearing himself out as he did so, tears and snot streaked down his face and guaranteeing that Gotou’s favorite sweatshirt was due another wash today. “I whacked him into the bookshelf,” Masayoshi said softly, from behind his hands.
Gotou considered this. “Okay, maybe a *little,*” he said, and this time Masayoshi *definitely* sobbed, and Gotou sighed and whapped his shoulder. “You’ll get him wailing again, stop that.”
“We were playing airplane,” Masayoshi said, voice a little ragged. “You have to start with an airplane, he’s too young to pilot a transforming robo—”
“You weren’t watching where you were going and you flew him into the corner of the bookshelf,” Gotou finished, and sighed. He shifted Masanori again, gone mostly quiet now, and checked his head thoroughly. No damage to be seen, and he kissed the top of Masanori’s head, then rocked forward and kissed the top of Masayoshi’s. “He’s fine, ‘yoshi. He’s your son, he’s got a hard head.”
Masayoshi nodded a little, and Gotou smiled. “He’s worn out from crying though, want to put him down for his nap, or catch Keiko?”
Masayoshi wiped his eyes and leaned over, to look past Gotou. Keiko had heard her name and looked up, busted, as she climbed halfway up the table in the pursuit of her pacifier. “Keiko-chan!” Masayoshi said, alarmed that she was loose, and Keiko proceeded to climb the rest of the way atop the dining room table.
“She’s all yours,” Gotou said, standing, as Masayoshi surged to his feet and darted over to the table, while Keiko wobbled on two legs, arms pinwheeling. “C'mon little bird,” he said, using Masayoshi’s favorite nickname for their son. “Let’s go wipe your face and put you down for your nap, okay? Your daddy doesn’t mean to be an idiot, he loves you very much.”
Masanori made a disgruntled, tired sound into Gotou’s shirt, as Gotou walked him back toward the baby’s room. At least there was plenty more room to walk around, here.
