Fic: Baby Steps
Title: Baby Steps
Author: starrdust411
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Peter/Claude
Rating: PG
Summary: For the peterandclaude Bingo challenge Prompt: baby - first steps (Words: 3,710)
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes.
Warnings: Fluff, Humor
There was water everywhere; on the floor, on the walls, even on the ceiling. His back hurt at the mere thought of having to clean it all up, especially after working a twelve hour shift in a bumpy ambulance. This was not the sight he had wanted to come home to.
"Did you have to let Natalie make such a mess?" Peter moaned. He barely managed to set one foot inside the bathroom before sliding against the slick tile. His right hand instinctively grabbed the sink for support as Claude automatically reached out to hold his left arm, effectively preventing Peter from cracking his skull open on the floor.
"I wash her, you clean up after," Claude said simply as Peter regained his footing. "That was our agreement, remember?"
"Well where did you wash her, on the ceiling?" Peter frowned, glaring up at the water dripping down from above them and into the now empty tub. He hoped that there wouldn't be any permanent damaged, otherwise the super was going to really let him have it.
Claude shrugged, releasing Peter's arm from his grasp as he focused his attention on toweling dry the still wet baby in his arms. "Got away from me a few times," he said simply. It was only then that Peter noticed that Claude himself was also dripping wet, but the fact that Claude was more intent on cleaning Natalie than himself bought him a great deal of sympathy. "Sides, I got the job done, didn't I?"
Peter sighed, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm. "All I wanted to do was come home and take a nice long shower."
"Good luck finding it under all this," he teased, patting the baby's soft brown hair affectionately. "Gotta put this one in her jammies."
Suddenly Peter wanted to take the baby and do it himself, because he couldn't help feeling that whenever he asked Claude to do anything baby related the Brit would make the biggest mess possible just to get back at him. It was a ridiculous thought of course, but the evidence in front of him was hard to argue against. Still, he had been clinging to Natalie ever since bringing her home and Peter knew that the only way for Claude to feel a real connection to the little girl was to let him take care of her too.
"You are such a troublemaker!" Peter crooned, tapping the one year old on the nose as he spoke. She followed his finger as best as she could with her bright blue eyes before erupting into a fit of giggles. He smiled, kissing her round cheek. He already forgave her for the mess. Claude on the other hand wasn't quite off the hook just yet. "Fine, go change her. I'll clean up in here."
"Have fun," Claude called, stepping out of the drenched bathroom with remarkable ease.
-+-+-+-
After mopping the floor, drying the walls, changing the bath rug and shower curtain, all before finally being able to scrub himself clean, Peter was actually starting to feel more like himself. He wasn't exactly perfect -- his feet and back were screaming, his stomach felt so empty that he was sure it was eating itself, and his eyelids were so heavy that he felt certain they'd slip shut any second now -- but Peter knew that all those little aches and pains would evaporate the second he got to hold little Natalie in his arms.
Peter had been day dreaming about coming home and spending time with his baby all day. Now after hours of running in and out of an ambulance, listening to the blaring siren and frantic screams of the sick and injured, it was soothing to know that he could just sit and listen to the gentle coos and babbles of his little girl.
Pulling on a t-shirt and sweatpants, Peter was ready to go and grab Natalie when his eyes suddenly landed on the glowing red numbers on the face of his alarm clock. He blinked, rubbing his eyes before looking again, because there was no way it could already be that late.
He didn't even bother to put anything on his feet as he rushed out of his bedroom and into the nursery, disappointed to see that the lights were off and Natalie was already fast asleep in her crib.
"Somethin' wrong, Pete?" Claude whispered, stepping into the room and looking curiously from Peter to the baby.
"No," he muttered, watching the infant breathing peacefully. "Just... didn't expect her to be asleep already."
Claude shrugged. "This is her bedtime, remember?"
He did remember. He remembered because he had been the one to set up the bedtime, he'd been the one that had read all the baby books that stressed the importance of a full night sleep for a developing child, and for the first few months of the little girl's life he had been the one to lay her down and tuck her in. Now every night it was getting harder and harder to come home from work on time to do anything more than see her for just a second.
Peter stiffened as Claude touched his face, gently forcing the younger man to look at him. "You look bloody miserable," he mumbled and Peter couldn't help but feel miserable. "Why don't you go eat somethin'?"
He sighed, shaking his head slowly. "No, I've got an early shift tomorrow. I think I'm gonna just go straight to bed."
-+-+-+-
It was six fifteen by the time he was up and dressed for work. Peter had briefly considered going into Natalie's room to say goodbye, but he thought better of it. It would only serve to wake her up and leave Claude with a very cranky baby to tend to. That and the fact that he was already running late was enough to make him move on.
When he got to work he was greeted with what had to be the most painfully slow day imaginable, an occurrence that was not only rare but nothing short of miraculous. Yet instead of being thankful that for once the city of New York was not showing him its darker side, Peter was amiss to find himself with nothing but time to sit and think which left him feeling hollow and positively morose.
"You look miserable," Hesam commented.
Peter frowned, forcing himself to stare out the window and avoid his partner's worried glances. It didn't help since after so much time being paired up with Hesam he could tell when the man was looking at him and just what expression he was using without ever turning to stare back. Of course being called "miserable" twice in less than twenty four hours was nothing short of frustrating, but he wasn't quite "miserable" enough to lash out at Hesam for it.
"I feel kinda miserable," he muttered.
Hesam sighed, long and weary, before finally asking "What's wrong?"
"Why do you have to ask like that?" Peter snipped. He hated it when Hesam pulled the long suffering partner act on him. It wasn't as if they only ever talked about Peter's problems. He recalled just last week how the two had spent an entire day discussing Hesam's most recent relationship.
"Fine, I'll try to change my tone," Hesam joked as he cleared his throat dramatically. "Is there something you want to talk about, Peter?"
Peter laughed, adjusting himself so that he was sitting up straighter. "Funny," he muttered. "I dunno. Just baby stuff. I feel like..." Peter stopped, rethinking his words. The problems that had been tearing him up inside suddenly sounded so ridiculous to him. "You know what? Never mind."
"Oh, come on Peter," Hesam urged, "you've been moopy and sullen all week. Hell, you've been moopy since your paternity leave expired! Don't tell me you're still feeling guilty about going back to work?"
Guilty wasn't exactly the word he would use to describe how he felt. He had gone past guilt a long time ago and had moved directly into frustration. Peter knew that he had to work to support his family. What's more, even despite the tiring irritation that came hand in hand with work as a paramedic, he actually liked his job. He was good at what he did and helping people made him feel fulfilled and needed. It was a feeling that he wasn't getting at home anymore.
"It's not that exactly," Peter confessed. "I mean, I get that I need to work, I know that I can't afford not to, but I can't help feeling that I'm missing out on so much. The first time she rolled over, I was at work. First time she crawled, I was at work. First time she stood up, I was at work."
Hesam smirked. "You know, it's funny, a little over a year ago you practically lived in this ambulance, now you're actually complaining that you work too much!"
"Excuse me for being a parent," he huffed.
"No need to get defensive, I'm just teasing. Besides, you shouldn't feel bad for working. Of course you're going to miss somethings, but your kid's gonna know that you'll always be there for her when it counts. And, you know, if you ever need me to take a few shifts for you..."
"As much as I would love to say yes, I literally can't afford to do that." He smiled. "But thanks for the offer."
-+-+-+-
It was funny how quickly a day could shift gears. One minute he was having what could only be described as the most bland, uneventful shift in months when suddenly everything took a turn for the worst. Two car accidents, a heart attack, and a gunshot victim later, Peter soon found himself slinking home from work two hours later than he should have.
Peter groaned, digging in his pocket for his keys. He suddenly didn't know what he wanted more; a shower, a nap, or something to eat. Yet opening the door and seeing Natalie crawling across the floor was like a shot of energy directly in his veins.
"Oh! You're awake," Peter crooned, picking up the baby on reflex. It was only when she was in his arms did Peter realize that he was still wearing his work clothes. "Ugh, I'm so dirty and gross!" He sighed, pulling the infant away from his body reluctantly. "I gotta shower and get changed and you are not allowed to go to sleep until I get back!"
"She get outta that playpen again?" Claude grumbled as he emerged from the bedroom. "Bloody hell. Can't turn my back on this one for a minute."
Peter sighed as he reluctantly handed Natalie over to Claude. It was strange how Natalie always found a way out of her play pen. They checked the brown and pink foam screens daily for a single hole, but the pen was completely flawless. However Natalie managed to sneak out was nothing short of pure talent.
"Maybe we should think about getting her a new one," he said thoughtfully as Claude set Natalie back down inside the brown and pink bars. She squirmed, gurgling in protest before plopping back down to sit on her bottom. It was only then that Peter noticed the floral wool cap placed firmly on her head. "Claude, why is she wearing a hat? It's almost ninety degrees outside."
"Ah, she's a tough girl, she can handle it," Claude said quickly, shoving Peter's hand away when he tried to take the hat off. "Wouldn't do that if I were you Pete. She cries up a storm when it comes off."
If Peter hadn't been suspicious before, he was certain that something was wrong now. Tugging the cap off, he was horrified to find a bruise on the middle of Natalie's forehead. "What happened!" he gasped, gathering the baby back into his arms and hugging her close. As a paramedic and a nurse he recognized the injury for what it was: a small cut on top of a bruise the size of a penny. Yet as a parent, the bruise looked more like a disfiguring scar, the kind that even major surgery could not fix.
"Nothin' happened," Claude sighed, his tone far too casual for Peter's taste. "She just bumped her head on the coffee table."
"And where were you when this was happening?"
"I was right here."
"And you just stood by and watched as our daughter gave herself brain damage?"
Claude groaned, rubbing at his face wearily. "This is exactly why I didn't want you to find out! I knew that you'd overreact like this."
"Overreact? Claude, she's got a giant gash on her forehead!" Peter frowned, taking Natalie's face in his hands and gently turned her head to get a better look. It wasn't anything serious, but his heart still twisted itself into sharp knots at the sight. "Poor baby," he crooned, giving her forehead a quick kiss.
"Look, Pete, she was standing up on her own, see," Claude explained, "and I thought she might be tryin' ta walk so I didn't want to stop her."
Peter stiffened, his eyes widening at Claude's words. "She walked?"
"No. She just stood, wobbled and then fell."
He breathed a small sigh of relief, thankful that he hadn't missed Natalie's first steps. Still, the bump on the head was just too much for him to take. "Claude, we need to talk," he said seriously as he placed Natalie back in her play pen.
"Bloody hell, Pete, it's just a bump on the noggin! She's gonna do much worse ta herself down the road. Gotta let the baby bird fly, mate."
"It's not about the gash," Peter said wearily. "It's about... everything. I'm sick of going to work and never getting to spend time with her, I'm sick of leaving home at the crack of dawn and coming home when she's already asleep, and I'm sick and tired of missing out on everything!"
Claude huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "You've been singing that same song since you got off your paternity leave," he said pointedly. "Pete, you know we need the money. Can't just live off of your savings account forever."
Peter had known from the start that staying home was not an option. The three months he had spent at home bonding with Natalie and helping her to adjust to this new environment was wonderful, but being out of work for that long had also left Peter felling empty, useless. Yet months after being forced to go back he was starting to feel that the connection he had made with the baby was fading away. He felt completely trapped and miserable no matter what he did.
"I know I can't stay home, but it's still frustrating," he whined. "And then I come home and you're actually doing a decent job with the baby... I really miss the days when you didn't know what you were doing and I could swoop in and be Super Dad."
"Wait a minute, you actually miss me being a piss poor Dad?"
"Claude, you always make fun of all my screw ups, can you just let me have this one thing?"
"Fantastic, you're jealous that I'm actually getting the hang on this parenting thing," Claude huffed. "First it's 'you don't spend enough time with the baby' and now it's 'you're too good of a father!' Well I've got news for you Peter: I'm not happy with this set up either. Ya think I like being a stay at home Dad? Don't get me wrong, I love Natalie, but I'm not cut out for this."
"Are you kidding me? I miss being home and watching Sesame Street. I miss the bath times and diaper changes-"
"I hate all of those things!" Claude interrupted. "But I'm not gettin' a job. Don't think you can just throw a suit on me and send me out the door while you sit at home clippin' coupons."
Peter groaned, rubbing at his forehead wearily. "Well, to be honest I don't really want to quit my job, either. I like what I do. I like helping people."
Claude frowned. "So you wanna spend more time at home, but you don't want to give up work."
"And you want to spend less time at home, but you don't want to get a job. Looks like we're at an impasse." He sighed, crossing his arms thoughtfully. "What are we supposed to do now?"
"We could always hire a nanny," Claude suggested.
"That's not happening," Peter scoffed. "I'm not going to hire some stranger to raise my kid. Besides, that would only really solve your problem."
"Just makin' a suggestion, Poodle. Let's see if you can come up with somethin' better."
Peter was about to speak, but his words were cut off as a rattle went whizzing through the air and smacked him straight in the face. He winced more in shock than actual pain -- because the rattle barely weighed more than a paper cup -- but the sound of Claude's far too enthusiastic laughter was enough to make his entire face heat up. "That's really not funny," Peter grumbled. "And when you laugh like that you're only encouraging her!"
Claude barely managed to contain his amusement as he placed a hand over his mouth. "Sorry," he said, his words muffled by both his laughter and his own hand. "Not really."
He groaned as he looked from Claude to Natalie, who had once again managed to slip out of her play pen and was sitting on the other side of the room, giggling innocently. "She got out again," he sighed, bending down to pick up the fallen rattle. "How does she keep doing that?"
Peter barely managed to take a step towards Natalie, intent on picking her up and putting her back in the pen, when Claude grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back. "Wait a minute, Poodle," he said, pressing Peter's back flat against his chest and holding him there. He could tell from Claude's tone that the man had an idea. "Come here, Natalie," Claude began, prying the rattle out of Peter's hands and shaking it until Natalie's blue eyes looked his way. "Come here. Walk to your daddies."
Natalie blinked, looking from Claude to Peter then to the floor, considering what to do next.
"Claude," Peter began, only to be silenced by a firm hand over his mouth.
"Come on Natalie," Claude continued. "Stand up. You can do it."
Peter frowned, pulling Claude's hand away. "Claude she's too young to walk! Don't force her."
"Ah, she's a year old."
"Thirteen months," he corrected.
"That's old enough!"
They watched as Natalie leaned forward, pushing herself off of the floor before standing tall on chubby legs. She was good at balancing herself, but the purple bruise on her forehead made Peter's heart clench with worry as she stood there, mouth agape and eyes trained on the two men in front of her. Natalie gurgled, wobbling slightly before falling backwards on her cushioned bottom.
"See, I told you she wasn't ready," Peter said, fighting back against the urge to laugh.
"Let the pup try again," Claude chided, swatting his shoulder firmly. "Come on Natalie. Stand up. Give it another go."
Undaunted by failure, Natalie managed to push herself back onto her feet, this time using the same coffee table she had injured herself on for support. She wobbled again, but this time she didn't fall over. Instead, her right foot inched forward, sliding against the hard wood floor, before stopping completely. She stood there, staring up at the two men for guidance.
"Come on Daddy," Claude whispered, rubbing his arm encouragingly. "Show the pup some support."
Peter swallowed, his stomach twisting with nervous anticipation as he watched the baby wobble and stare. "Come here, Natalie," Peter called, waving his arms encouragingly. "Come on sweetie, walk to Daddy. You can do it."
Natalie smiled, a determine gleam in her eyes as she began to take short, careful steps towards them, keeping her arms out for balance. Peter actually felt his breath catch in his throat as he crouched down, arms open and ready to catch her.
"Oh my God!" Peter breathed, still mesmerized by the sight. "She's doing it! She's actually walking."
"Told you she could," Claude laughed just as Natalie collapsed into Peter's arms.
"You walked!" he crooned, kissing her round cheeks proudly. "You actually walked. I'm so proud of you."
"Now what were you saying about missing everything?" Claude chuckled as he crouched down on the floor beside the two, running his fingers through Natalie's brown hair.
He laughed sheepishly as Natalie squirmed in his arms, eager to be let go so she can try out her new trick again. "Well, can you really blame me for feeling that way?" Peter sighed, letting the baby go. As soon as she was up she went to Claude, grabbing the brightly colored rattle he still held in his hands. "I mean, I've missed a lot. I missed when she started crawling, when she stood up on her own-"
"Saw her first steps didn't you?" he interrupted. Natalie continued to tug at the rattle, but Claude's grip stayed firm, showing no signs of letting go. "Tell the truth, think she might have been waiting for you."
Peter frowned, adjusting himself so that he was sitting flat against the ground instead of kneeling awkwardly. "Yeah? What makes you say that?"
"She still likes you best, Poodle. You're her mum after all."
"Very funny," Peter chuckled, pulling Natalie back into his lap. She put up a bit of a fight, protesting being restrained and pulled away before being able to retrieve her prize, but when Peter yanked the rattle out of Claude's grasp and handed it to her she settled down right away. "I still want to be able to see her more."
"You get an hour for lunch, yeah?" Claude began thoughtfully. "We could always work something out where you take her then. That way, I get time away from playing house and you get the mommy-daughter bonding time you've been craving."
He smiled, kissing the top of Natalie’s head before leaning forward to kiss Claude. "I think that'll work."
Author: starrdust411
Fandom: Heroes
Pairing: Peter/Claude
Rating: PG
Summary: For the peterandclaude Bingo challenge Prompt: baby - first steps (Words: 3,710)
Disclaimer: I do not own Heroes.
Warnings: Fluff, Humor
There was water everywhere; on the floor, on the walls, even on the ceiling. His back hurt at the mere thought of having to clean it all up, especially after working a twelve hour shift in a bumpy ambulance. This was not the sight he had wanted to come home to.
"Did you have to let Natalie make such a mess?" Peter moaned. He barely managed to set one foot inside the bathroom before sliding against the slick tile. His right hand instinctively grabbed the sink for support as Claude automatically reached out to hold his left arm, effectively preventing Peter from cracking his skull open on the floor.
"I wash her, you clean up after," Claude said simply as Peter regained his footing. "That was our agreement, remember?"
"Well where did you wash her, on the ceiling?" Peter frowned, glaring up at the water dripping down from above them and into the now empty tub. He hoped that there wouldn't be any permanent damaged, otherwise the super was going to really let him have it.
Claude shrugged, releasing Peter's arm from his grasp as he focused his attention on toweling dry the still wet baby in his arms. "Got away from me a few times," he said simply. It was only then that Peter noticed that Claude himself was also dripping wet, but the fact that Claude was more intent on cleaning Natalie than himself bought him a great deal of sympathy. "Sides, I got the job done, didn't I?"
Peter sighed, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his palm. "All I wanted to do was come home and take a nice long shower."
"Good luck finding it under all this," he teased, patting the baby's soft brown hair affectionately. "Gotta put this one in her jammies."
Suddenly Peter wanted to take the baby and do it himself, because he couldn't help feeling that whenever he asked Claude to do anything baby related the Brit would make the biggest mess possible just to get back at him. It was a ridiculous thought of course, but the evidence in front of him was hard to argue against. Still, he had been clinging to Natalie ever since bringing her home and Peter knew that the only way for Claude to feel a real connection to the little girl was to let him take care of her too.
"You are such a troublemaker!" Peter crooned, tapping the one year old on the nose as he spoke. She followed his finger as best as she could with her bright blue eyes before erupting into a fit of giggles. He smiled, kissing her round cheek. He already forgave her for the mess. Claude on the other hand wasn't quite off the hook just yet. "Fine, go change her. I'll clean up in here."
"Have fun," Claude called, stepping out of the drenched bathroom with remarkable ease.
-+-+-+-
After mopping the floor, drying the walls, changing the bath rug and shower curtain, all before finally being able to scrub himself clean, Peter was actually starting to feel more like himself. He wasn't exactly perfect -- his feet and back were screaming, his stomach felt so empty that he was sure it was eating itself, and his eyelids were so heavy that he felt certain they'd slip shut any second now -- but Peter knew that all those little aches and pains would evaporate the second he got to hold little Natalie in his arms.
Peter had been day dreaming about coming home and spending time with his baby all day. Now after hours of running in and out of an ambulance, listening to the blaring siren and frantic screams of the sick and injured, it was soothing to know that he could just sit and listen to the gentle coos and babbles of his little girl.
Pulling on a t-shirt and sweatpants, Peter was ready to go and grab Natalie when his eyes suddenly landed on the glowing red numbers on the face of his alarm clock. He blinked, rubbing his eyes before looking again, because there was no way it could already be that late.
He didn't even bother to put anything on his feet as he rushed out of his bedroom and into the nursery, disappointed to see that the lights were off and Natalie was already fast asleep in her crib.
"Somethin' wrong, Pete?" Claude whispered, stepping into the room and looking curiously from Peter to the baby.
"No," he muttered, watching the infant breathing peacefully. "Just... didn't expect her to be asleep already."
Claude shrugged. "This is her bedtime, remember?"
He did remember. He remembered because he had been the one to set up the bedtime, he'd been the one that had read all the baby books that stressed the importance of a full night sleep for a developing child, and for the first few months of the little girl's life he had been the one to lay her down and tuck her in. Now every night it was getting harder and harder to come home from work on time to do anything more than see her for just a second.
Peter stiffened as Claude touched his face, gently forcing the younger man to look at him. "You look bloody miserable," he mumbled and Peter couldn't help but feel miserable. "Why don't you go eat somethin'?"
He sighed, shaking his head slowly. "No, I've got an early shift tomorrow. I think I'm gonna just go straight to bed."
-+-+-+-
It was six fifteen by the time he was up and dressed for work. Peter had briefly considered going into Natalie's room to say goodbye, but he thought better of it. It would only serve to wake her up and leave Claude with a very cranky baby to tend to. That and the fact that he was already running late was enough to make him move on.
When he got to work he was greeted with what had to be the most painfully slow day imaginable, an occurrence that was not only rare but nothing short of miraculous. Yet instead of being thankful that for once the city of New York was not showing him its darker side, Peter was amiss to find himself with nothing but time to sit and think which left him feeling hollow and positively morose.
"You look miserable," Hesam commented.
Peter frowned, forcing himself to stare out the window and avoid his partner's worried glances. It didn't help since after so much time being paired up with Hesam he could tell when the man was looking at him and just what expression he was using without ever turning to stare back. Of course being called "miserable" twice in less than twenty four hours was nothing short of frustrating, but he wasn't quite "miserable" enough to lash out at Hesam for it.
"I feel kinda miserable," he muttered.
Hesam sighed, long and weary, before finally asking "What's wrong?"
"Why do you have to ask like that?" Peter snipped. He hated it when Hesam pulled the long suffering partner act on him. It wasn't as if they only ever talked about Peter's problems. He recalled just last week how the two had spent an entire day discussing Hesam's most recent relationship.
"Fine, I'll try to change my tone," Hesam joked as he cleared his throat dramatically. "Is there something you want to talk about, Peter?"
Peter laughed, adjusting himself so that he was sitting up straighter. "Funny," he muttered. "I dunno. Just baby stuff. I feel like..." Peter stopped, rethinking his words. The problems that had been tearing him up inside suddenly sounded so ridiculous to him. "You know what? Never mind."
"Oh, come on Peter," Hesam urged, "you've been moopy and sullen all week. Hell, you've been moopy since your paternity leave expired! Don't tell me you're still feeling guilty about going back to work?"
Guilty wasn't exactly the word he would use to describe how he felt. He had gone past guilt a long time ago and had moved directly into frustration. Peter knew that he had to work to support his family. What's more, even despite the tiring irritation that came hand in hand with work as a paramedic, he actually liked his job. He was good at what he did and helping people made him feel fulfilled and needed. It was a feeling that he wasn't getting at home anymore.
"It's not that exactly," Peter confessed. "I mean, I get that I need to work, I know that I can't afford not to, but I can't help feeling that I'm missing out on so much. The first time she rolled over, I was at work. First time she crawled, I was at work. First time she stood up, I was at work."
Hesam smirked. "You know, it's funny, a little over a year ago you practically lived in this ambulance, now you're actually complaining that you work too much!"
"Excuse me for being a parent," he huffed.
"No need to get defensive, I'm just teasing. Besides, you shouldn't feel bad for working. Of course you're going to miss somethings, but your kid's gonna know that you'll always be there for her when it counts. And, you know, if you ever need me to take a few shifts for you..."
"As much as I would love to say yes, I literally can't afford to do that." He smiled. "But thanks for the offer."
-+-+-+-
It was funny how quickly a day could shift gears. One minute he was having what could only be described as the most bland, uneventful shift in months when suddenly everything took a turn for the worst. Two car accidents, a heart attack, and a gunshot victim later, Peter soon found himself slinking home from work two hours later than he should have.
Peter groaned, digging in his pocket for his keys. He suddenly didn't know what he wanted more; a shower, a nap, or something to eat. Yet opening the door and seeing Natalie crawling across the floor was like a shot of energy directly in his veins.
"Oh! You're awake," Peter crooned, picking up the baby on reflex. It was only when she was in his arms did Peter realize that he was still wearing his work clothes. "Ugh, I'm so dirty and gross!" He sighed, pulling the infant away from his body reluctantly. "I gotta shower and get changed and you are not allowed to go to sleep until I get back!"
"She get outta that playpen again?" Claude grumbled as he emerged from the bedroom. "Bloody hell. Can't turn my back on this one for a minute."
Peter sighed as he reluctantly handed Natalie over to Claude. It was strange how Natalie always found a way out of her play pen. They checked the brown and pink foam screens daily for a single hole, but the pen was completely flawless. However Natalie managed to sneak out was nothing short of pure talent.
"Maybe we should think about getting her a new one," he said thoughtfully as Claude set Natalie back down inside the brown and pink bars. She squirmed, gurgling in protest before plopping back down to sit on her bottom. It was only then that Peter noticed the floral wool cap placed firmly on her head. "Claude, why is she wearing a hat? It's almost ninety degrees outside."
"Ah, she's a tough girl, she can handle it," Claude said quickly, shoving Peter's hand away when he tried to take the hat off. "Wouldn't do that if I were you Pete. She cries up a storm when it comes off."
If Peter hadn't been suspicious before, he was certain that something was wrong now. Tugging the cap off, he was horrified to find a bruise on the middle of Natalie's forehead. "What happened!" he gasped, gathering the baby back into his arms and hugging her close. As a paramedic and a nurse he recognized the injury for what it was: a small cut on top of a bruise the size of a penny. Yet as a parent, the bruise looked more like a disfiguring scar, the kind that even major surgery could not fix.
"Nothin' happened," Claude sighed, his tone far too casual for Peter's taste. "She just bumped her head on the coffee table."
"And where were you when this was happening?"
"I was right here."
"And you just stood by and watched as our daughter gave herself brain damage?"
Claude groaned, rubbing at his face wearily. "This is exactly why I didn't want you to find out! I knew that you'd overreact like this."
"Overreact? Claude, she's got a giant gash on her forehead!" Peter frowned, taking Natalie's face in his hands and gently turned her head to get a better look. It wasn't anything serious, but his heart still twisted itself into sharp knots at the sight. "Poor baby," he crooned, giving her forehead a quick kiss.
"Look, Pete, she was standing up on her own, see," Claude explained, "and I thought she might be tryin' ta walk so I didn't want to stop her."
Peter stiffened, his eyes widening at Claude's words. "She walked?"
"No. She just stood, wobbled and then fell."
He breathed a small sigh of relief, thankful that he hadn't missed Natalie's first steps. Still, the bump on the head was just too much for him to take. "Claude, we need to talk," he said seriously as he placed Natalie back in her play pen.
"Bloody hell, Pete, it's just a bump on the noggin! She's gonna do much worse ta herself down the road. Gotta let the baby bird fly, mate."
"It's not about the gash," Peter said wearily. "It's about... everything. I'm sick of going to work and never getting to spend time with her, I'm sick of leaving home at the crack of dawn and coming home when she's already asleep, and I'm sick and tired of missing out on everything!"
Claude huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "You've been singing that same song since you got off your paternity leave," he said pointedly. "Pete, you know we need the money. Can't just live off of your savings account forever."
Peter had known from the start that staying home was not an option. The three months he had spent at home bonding with Natalie and helping her to adjust to this new environment was wonderful, but being out of work for that long had also left Peter felling empty, useless. Yet months after being forced to go back he was starting to feel that the connection he had made with the baby was fading away. He felt completely trapped and miserable no matter what he did.
"I know I can't stay home, but it's still frustrating," he whined. "And then I come home and you're actually doing a decent job with the baby... I really miss the days when you didn't know what you were doing and I could swoop in and be Super Dad."
"Wait a minute, you actually miss me being a piss poor Dad?"
"Claude, you always make fun of all my screw ups, can you just let me have this one thing?"
"Fantastic, you're jealous that I'm actually getting the hang on this parenting thing," Claude huffed. "First it's 'you don't spend enough time with the baby' and now it's 'you're too good of a father!' Well I've got news for you Peter: I'm not happy with this set up either. Ya think I like being a stay at home Dad? Don't get me wrong, I love Natalie, but I'm not cut out for this."
"Are you kidding me? I miss being home and watching Sesame Street. I miss the bath times and diaper changes-"
"I hate all of those things!" Claude interrupted. "But I'm not gettin' a job. Don't think you can just throw a suit on me and send me out the door while you sit at home clippin' coupons."
Peter groaned, rubbing at his forehead wearily. "Well, to be honest I don't really want to quit my job, either. I like what I do. I like helping people."
Claude frowned. "So you wanna spend more time at home, but you don't want to give up work."
"And you want to spend less time at home, but you don't want to get a job. Looks like we're at an impasse." He sighed, crossing his arms thoughtfully. "What are we supposed to do now?"
"We could always hire a nanny," Claude suggested.
"That's not happening," Peter scoffed. "I'm not going to hire some stranger to raise my kid. Besides, that would only really solve your problem."
"Just makin' a suggestion, Poodle. Let's see if you can come up with somethin' better."
Peter was about to speak, but his words were cut off as a rattle went whizzing through the air and smacked him straight in the face. He winced more in shock than actual pain -- because the rattle barely weighed more than a paper cup -- but the sound of Claude's far too enthusiastic laughter was enough to make his entire face heat up. "That's really not funny," Peter grumbled. "And when you laugh like that you're only encouraging her!"
Claude barely managed to contain his amusement as he placed a hand over his mouth. "Sorry," he said, his words muffled by both his laughter and his own hand. "Not really."
He groaned as he looked from Claude to Natalie, who had once again managed to slip out of her play pen and was sitting on the other side of the room, giggling innocently. "She got out again," he sighed, bending down to pick up the fallen rattle. "How does she keep doing that?"
Peter barely managed to take a step towards Natalie, intent on picking her up and putting her back in the pen, when Claude grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back. "Wait a minute, Poodle," he said, pressing Peter's back flat against his chest and holding him there. He could tell from Claude's tone that the man had an idea. "Come here, Natalie," Claude began, prying the rattle out of Peter's hands and shaking it until Natalie's blue eyes looked his way. "Come here. Walk to your daddies."
Natalie blinked, looking from Claude to Peter then to the floor, considering what to do next.
"Claude," Peter began, only to be silenced by a firm hand over his mouth.
"Come on Natalie," Claude continued. "Stand up. You can do it."
Peter frowned, pulling Claude's hand away. "Claude she's too young to walk! Don't force her."
"Ah, she's a year old."
"Thirteen months," he corrected.
"That's old enough!"
They watched as Natalie leaned forward, pushing herself off of the floor before standing tall on chubby legs. She was good at balancing herself, but the purple bruise on her forehead made Peter's heart clench with worry as she stood there, mouth agape and eyes trained on the two men in front of her. Natalie gurgled, wobbling slightly before falling backwards on her cushioned bottom.
"See, I told you she wasn't ready," Peter said, fighting back against the urge to laugh.
"Let the pup try again," Claude chided, swatting his shoulder firmly. "Come on Natalie. Stand up. Give it another go."
Undaunted by failure, Natalie managed to push herself back onto her feet, this time using the same coffee table she had injured herself on for support. She wobbled again, but this time she didn't fall over. Instead, her right foot inched forward, sliding against the hard wood floor, before stopping completely. She stood there, staring up at the two men for guidance.
"Come on Daddy," Claude whispered, rubbing his arm encouragingly. "Show the pup some support."
Peter swallowed, his stomach twisting with nervous anticipation as he watched the baby wobble and stare. "Come here, Natalie," Peter called, waving his arms encouragingly. "Come on sweetie, walk to Daddy. You can do it."
Natalie smiled, a determine gleam in her eyes as she began to take short, careful steps towards them, keeping her arms out for balance. Peter actually felt his breath catch in his throat as he crouched down, arms open and ready to catch her.
"Oh my God!" Peter breathed, still mesmerized by the sight. "She's doing it! She's actually walking."
"Told you she could," Claude laughed just as Natalie collapsed into Peter's arms.
"You walked!" he crooned, kissing her round cheeks proudly. "You actually walked. I'm so proud of you."
"Now what were you saying about missing everything?" Claude chuckled as he crouched down on the floor beside the two, running his fingers through Natalie's brown hair.
He laughed sheepishly as Natalie squirmed in his arms, eager to be let go so she can try out her new trick again. "Well, can you really blame me for feeling that way?" Peter sighed, letting the baby go. As soon as she was up she went to Claude, grabbing the brightly colored rattle he still held in his hands. "I mean, I've missed a lot. I missed when she started crawling, when she stood up on her own-"
"Saw her first steps didn't you?" he interrupted. Natalie continued to tug at the rattle, but Claude's grip stayed firm, showing no signs of letting go. "Tell the truth, think she might have been waiting for you."
Peter frowned, adjusting himself so that he was sitting flat against the ground instead of kneeling awkwardly. "Yeah? What makes you say that?"
"She still likes you best, Poodle. You're her mum after all."
"Very funny," Peter chuckled, pulling Natalie back into his lap. She put up a bit of a fight, protesting being restrained and pulled away before being able to retrieve her prize, but when Peter yanked the rattle out of Claude's grasp and handed it to her she settled down right away. "I still want to be able to see her more."
"You get an hour for lunch, yeah?" Claude began thoughtfully. "We could always work something out where you take her then. That way, I get time away from playing house and you get the mommy-daughter bonding time you've been craving."
He smiled, kissing the top of Natalie’s head before leaning forward to kiss Claude. "I think that'll work."