ιѕαвєℓα (rivaini) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2016-08-19 16:16:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !complete, garrett hawke, isabela |
Who: Hawke & Isabela
What: Being nannies to Amelia while her parents go on a date - so lots of baby powder and confusion about diapers (all from Isabela, mind you)
When: Tonight
Where: The flat above The Hanged Man
Rating/Warnings: Crude language because it's them
Status: Complete
Amelia was about three months old, the little bean growing and blossoming thanks to a healthy diet of boobmilk and not having hit the developmental milestones that let her crawl or walk yet. Instead she was carried everywhere, and how nice it must feel to be carried everywhere - superior service, right? Perhaps Isabela should have worn a taxi cab driver’s outfit, during this Nanny 101 adventure. But no, she’d settled for snug jeans that fit her like a second skin and one of Hawke’s t-shirts, because if the baby was going to spew gunk all at her she’d prefer to leave her wardrobe out of it. “....and so then I decided to just cut right to the point. Looking at the two of them, Aveline and the strapping Donnic, and seeing the unbridled passion and lust in their eyes - which wasn’t simply an effect of the whiskey flavoured with rat droppings after the latest Hanged Man indulgences - I asked the eternal question. Why not just bend her over a basin already?” Yes, this story Bela was weaving while cradling Miss Amelia and settled in a comfy chair, was one Varric would have delighted in. Nannying wasn’t too hard, Isabela supposed. With Amelia’s parents at the theatre, and likely pawing at each other in public, it was really no big deal to step in and devote a few hours to caregiving. The baby had been fed and bathed, and was now in her pyjamas with booties for the feet - maybe she’d even sleep somewhat regularly? Actually, Bela wasn’t sure how it worked. She’d learned her lesson quick, about wearing gold plunder and jewelry around the bundle of joy, however - those chubby little hands loved to grab at earrings, not to mention Isabela’s inky black tresses. Those were pulled back too, and she was about to continue her story when she thought she smelled something...off. Oh, Maker. “Hawke! Get in here!” Now she was up, holding Amelia out at arms length while the wee babe had the nerve to smile at her. “Something’s happened!” Ah, Hawke had been waiting for this day. Truly, ever since it was announced his bestest mate in the world was coming into the role of father, he’d been a very willing and vocal volunteer for babysitting duties. Sad thing was, there was literally a line to go through - the maternal grandparents were near and dear, basking in the joy of their first grandchild (among the spit ups and so forth), then not to mention the two biological aunts (Romany was always remembered fondly, but that Luna-bird was oddly terrifying), then came the godparents, him and Zatanna. He would have valiantly battled the godmother for dibs on the wee one tonight, don’t tempt him. Down below, in the bustling business of the Hanged Man, was the female Hawke twin manning the bar - Bethany knew all about the Thedosian adventures and was pleased to see a slice of it in this world, and why not help with what was essentially a family business? Garrett was thankful noise didn’t penetrate the floors and walls, especially considering the fact that they’d be putting Amelia to bed - hell hath no fury like a restless sprog. Bela had been tasked to coo and coddle while he tended to the bottles and nipples, as it was important to properly sanitize them and such. Laundry was wish-washing in the machine to equip the parents with cleansed burpers and baby clothes (she had a bit of a explosive spit up earlier) when they came to retrieve their cub. Though her voice sounded…urgent. Hawke’s stomach twisted, and he immediately looked panic. Was Amelia choking? Did he know how to do the heimlich on a baby?! Their home and business would be burned down if something - “What is it, what happened?” Then he took a deep breath through his nose, and there it was. The cause of Isabela’s panic. “Your turn.” “Are you serious!” Isabela scoffed, still holding Amelia under the armpits and out, like she was a weapon of mass destruction. Given the intensity of what she’d soiled her nappy with, that could very well be the case. “I don’t even know how to - “ No longer smiling, the gassy and poopy infant began to cry. Scrunching up her face and everything, hiccuping and hitching sobs like she’d just learned there was no Santa Claus. That wasn’t even fair. “You fight dirty,” Bela told the wailing baby, and it’s not like she could just let the poor thing sleep in her own shit, so, changing the nappy it was. Ah, alright then... Bela looked puzzled, as she laid Amelia down on a table that was now designated for this sort of thing, towel spread beneath her. “How many bloody snaps does this outfit have, oh, wait do you only need to take the bottom ones off - Hawke, she’s all squirmy, why is she all squirmy...“ Well, this pirate did hope he was amused! The stench was impressive, he’d admit. He could even see the weight of her fecal nuggets from how the diaper hung - especially with the way Bela held her out, like she’d been shat on. It’d taken a few tries to get back into the swing of changing soiled nappies but it came back to him with relative ease. His pirate, however? It was uncharted territory. Smelly uncharted territory. It’d taken time for her to hold the little bundle comfortable, and now came the challenge of the most common woe of baby rearing. “Wouldn’t you be squirmy if you shat yourself?” Hawke explained, the chuckle he let slip an indicator that he was, indeed, very amused. Arms folded, he stood to supervise his wife’s attempt. Just in case she missed a spot of poop. “There, there, little sorceress - don’t worry, Auntie Bela is going to wipe your bum with utmost tenderness. With much more tenderness than she treats mine.” Isabela made a sound like ppppffftttt at her beloved - probably she was channeling the baby a bit there - but it also wasn’t fair to compare treatment of Hawke’s bum to a sweet little sprog’s bum. Hawke’s ass could take the spanking it endured, the grabbing and slapping, and the occasional bite - look at it, you could bounce a British pound off that thing! Well, anyway. Amelia’s tush was soft and deserved only the best in wipes and powder and all this rubbish. If Bela could just figure out how to get her pyjamas off while she was kicking her legs and flailing. “It’s alright, see? I’ll sing you a song...ooooh, I've heard of dwarves who get in fights 'bout every time they drink, and those who need to have a woman just to help them think, and if you want to see a dwarf whine and beg and plead, just pour out all his ale and take away his me - aw, there we go!” Sort of. The pyjamas were off and phew, that excrement smelled awful. “Really, what does she eat? Burritos?” Isabela asked, flabbergasted. “I’ll need gloves and tongs to touch this mess, love.” Or not - she slid the dirty nappy free with one hand, holding Amelia’s legs and lifting her bum with the other. Then, a toss of that nappy, and a soothing wet wipe on baby’s pink skin. “Oh, you want me to finish the song? There's never been a Paragon of Wisdom or of Thinking, and though I tried a time or two, I ne'r got raised for stinking - “ Poof, now a cloud of powder. Probably too much. Bela coughed. And Amelia giggled with those gurgled-baby vocals, with a bit of sniffling (that did sound like Scary Bird’s nugs with their snuffing ways) and bleary eyes. Make no mistake, she must think the diaper-changing minion before her was an amusing peon - now her fingers were in that well of saliva called a mouth, all smiles. Hawke, on the other hand, coughed and laughed at the excess powder in the air. All the noise alerted the noble Dog, heavy paws trotting against the wooden floorboards as he came to inspect the human-made ruckus. “Lighten up on that next time, perhaps? But look at you, a bloody natural. I’m impressed. Dog’s impressed.” Ruff, ruff! “Even Amelia’s impr--” He was cut off by the sound of wind coming from her bum. No sharts, thank the Maker, just a very potent bomb of gaseous wind. The mage stood there, blinking. “Well, now I’m really impressed.” Dog’s head reeled back all thanks to the sudden onslaught of baby fart. “Look at that, you just jinxed it,” Isabela shuddered, because the stench of hot, sick ass (baby farts were some powerful things) made her regret that she had working olfactory senses at the moment. “That’s not my fault, by the way. I think she’s just gassy.” Must get that from her mum, perhaps? Maker bless it. But at least the baby had stopped crying, having moved on to sniffling and snarfling so cutely, She had a fresh nappy on and Bela began the process of re-snapping her into her pyjamas, finagling her slightly-chunky legs back in there. The process was complete, and Amelia hadn’t even been dropped on her head or something! Clearly, this raider Admiral was so proud of herself. Finding the binky that Amelia so loved, she offered it to the farting princess and then picked her up to hold her again, rubbing her back in soothing circles. “When is she supposed to sleep?” Bela asked. “Next time it’s your turn,” she added, glancing pointedly at Dog. Who was so intelligent surely he could learn to change nappies like the humans did. A successful mission! Hawke was, again, impressed by the thieving hands of his pirate - now with the skills of wiping a baby’s bottom and changing nappies. “They advised us to try and put her down, ah, let’s see…” A quick glance at his phone to check the time with a squint. “In about an hour or so, so perhaps we should just settle her down? This’ll be her first night away from her parents, so I don’t know how well she’ll settle down.” Some little ones were finicky, so attached and well-tuned to the ones responsible for creating them that it’d be a bit of a challenge to get them down. He was also prepared for the crying at night, since there was no way Amelia could hold her bowels more than two hours - plus another feeding, and there was milk stored in the fridge for it (that, of course, would require warming). “Perhaps we should try reading to her? She’s looking a little excitable and giggly.” Which meant, of course, she wasn’t anywhere near tired yet. Look at those kicking little feet, and fingers stretching into the air. Settle her down definitely seemed to be a foreign concept, especially with a wiggly Amelia. She was all gurgling and sweet now, learning to express herself via cooing rather than direct screaming at the drop of a hat - which Isabela supposed was something to save the eardrums of her parents. And she could even hold her head up too, it wasn’t so floppy! Which, honestly, made Bela feel better about holding her. The baby bearing weight on her legs and generally being a bit sturdier meant that handling her as if she were made of delicate china was less nerve-wracking. She was actually sort of cute, the little flubber. Alright, a lot cute. “Reading to her,” the lady pirate repeated incredulously. “Well, alright, you’re the expert. More so than me, anyway.” Here she passed off Amelia to her godfather, so a book could be procured - she didn’t think they had many child appropriate ones, but let’s see. Bela held one up. “Hard in Hightown? Swords and Shields? You can snuggle her, I’ll read.” One did not simply put a baby in her bissonnet and expect her to snooze off to the beat of the Sandman. With the twins, he recalled, it was merely lulling them into a sense of comfort outside the bedroom and eventually they’d be a floppy, sleepy mess - same thing worked for most babies, he assumed. “Ahh, give her over,” Hawke murmured, scooping the small being into his arms - her upper half was mostly elevated, and now she seemed to take interest in the growth on his face. Precisely what he needed, baby spit in his glorious, glorious beard. He’d have to endure. “Perhaps Swords and Shields? Maker, I don’t know if Aveline ever did find out it was his worst work. But maybe if junior here fusses we know romance isn’t her genre of choice?” They could keep her soothed in the living room, then. Them and Dog, comfortable on the couch with the soft buzz of telly noise in the background. He led them there, and the hound was the first to make himself comfortable with a happy pant and tongue rolling out of his mouth excitedly. Swords and Shields it was! Too bad Bela didn’t think to ask mum and dad to drop off a few books from that library in the ‘new age, healing crystals’ nursery - but they’d make do now, her and Hawke. She followed the mabari into the living room, taking a seat - overall, their place was cosy, Isabela really loved it. Sort of a craftsman-style place above the tavern, like what you’d find in a long forgotten era. Arches, a fireplace, wooden touches. Sometimes she missed the beach breeze filtering in at night but could always get her fill of that if needed. “Alright, let’s see - “ She cracked open the book, glancing over to make sure Amelia was comfortable - and the tyke seemed to be, what with how she was gurgling and stroking the fine bristle of Hawke’s manly beard with little sausage fingers. “This is a romance story for the ages, sweet pea, you’ll love it.” In fact, Bela only got about two chapters in on Aveline’s epic lusty tale (names changed to protect the not-so-innocent) before it looked like Amelia’s eyes were flagging. Oh, praise Andraste’s tits! “...is she asleep?” Could it actually be? He hoped so? Amelia’s suckling on that pacifier (it’s attachment was a soft plush toy for when those curious fingers didn’t have hair to entwine her fingers into) seemed to slow down, but continue in a subtle and rhythmic fashion. Her hands had dropped too, barely moving, and overall the miniature stinker looked…peaceful? Hawke dared not move yet, especially since he thought it too soon for her to be in the realm of deep slumber. “I think so,” he whispered, cautious and careful hushed tones so he wouldn’t cause a disturbance in The Force. “You really ought to do some kind of audio book for Varric’s texts, by the way. I felt brought back to Aveline’s hilarious attempts at courtship.” Amelia made a sleepy gesture of curling a fist into her cheek, awww. What an adorable vessel of future mass destruction. “Isn’t it grand? The sad thing is, you can’t make this stuff up. She really did ask us to follow her on her patrol with that guardsman, like chaperoning a date he didn’t even know was one,” Isabela snorted. Technically, Aveline had asked Hawke - but the rest of the Kirkwall misfits had tagged along anyway, because it was too bloody good to miss. And besides, there were nasties to fight because apparently the head of the guard was too googly-eyed to manage. All’s well that ended well. They’d shagged along on their merry little way, and even ended up getting married! How utterly adorable. The lady pirate spoke quietly, so as not to disturb the sleepy tator tot. One false move and she’d be wailing again. Even Dog dared not make a sound, not even a smelly fart. “Do you really want one of those things someday?” Bela asked then, motioning toward Amelia. She wasn’t certain how she felt about having children. Mostly she wasn’t interested, but who knew. That could change. Hawke was a bit of a sap underneath it all - as if that wasn’t obvious enough - and had been rooting for Aveline’s happiness, especially with what had happened to Wesley. Quite a way to meet a couple when the other was blight-sick and asked to be killed, but having escaped together and traveling on a boat for what felt like eons with the redheaded warrior built a bond. Even if Aveline was often more than exasperated with his antics, but his antics also brought a smile or two on that grouchy, stern face. Sometimes, anyway. For the moment he was content lounging with a blissful baby, with a clean set of diapers and who’d been keeping her hands to herself in her transition to a deeper slumber. Leandra had always said he was a natural, but he really ought to thank his mother for teaching him the ropes. Staying at home, taking care of three kids - though he did his best to help, always - was no easy feat. Balls to whoever said stay-at-home mothers had it ‘easy.’ He couldn’t help but take comments like that quite offensively, fuck you very much. “I suppose?” he replied, raising an eyebrow, and he bent an arm behind his head while leaning back some. “I was never opposed to the idea, though I seem to always be in some kind of caretaker position without having one of my own.” Hawke was still looking after his siblings; he wasn’t spoiling them but he made sure there was a roof over their heads (the twins still lived in the house he’d bought for the entire family), their tuition was covered and that they weren’t bombing their classes. He wanted to teach them responsibility but he also wanted them to live their lives without much worry. Maker knows they’ve had enough of that over the past couple years, especially after the patriarch’s sudden death. Then their money troubles, and losing their mother? It’d been a lot for the twins. He didn’t want them growing up too fast. Let them enjoy their college years in a reasonable sense - if providing them stability would help them with that, he’d happily oblige. Isabela snorted a dry laugh, though the look that sizzled in amber eyes was fond. “No shit - “ Oops, she probably shouldn’t curse around the baby? But Amelia didn’t appear to be awake anyway, and besides, she was months off from uttering her first word. How funny would it be, to have that word be a dirty one though? “That’s you, love, taking care of everyone else and doing favours for them,” she got up to perch beside Hawke on the armrest of the couch, dragging her fingers through his hair. “I suppose if it happened it wouldn’t be so terrible?” Being knocked up, that is. Not like Bela was going to actively try - no, she’d keep on with the birth protection regimen and relying on modern science to prevent any happy swimmers from doing what they do. Their family was good the way it was - she liked having Bethany and Carver around to be in-laws with; Gamlen was another story but whatever. And she was pretty good with helping to take care of Amelia too. It was an exercise in getting her feet wet, even in little increments. Maker, she still had to learn how much baby powder to use. Speaking of, there were remnants of that gratuitous baby powder on his beloved’s nose. Almost looked like she’d been spending time with his dear uncle, snorting cocaine off The Rear End’s toilet seat (he’d been banned for awhile after that stunt, because really), so he swiped at her nostrils a bit. “Well, I meant more so when it came to my actual family but I guess it also goes to our merry band of misfits,” he chuckled, but he didn’t mind. Back then he lost his blood family - Bethany met her demise early on, Leandra’s death was a relived horror, and Carver had wanted mostly zilch to do with him and joined the Templars. Those merry band of misfits became family, and Hawke took care of family. Even if someone of his family decided to go absolutely batshit by a willful possession of an angry spirit and caused irreversible mayhem, then died by his hands. Nothing was ever picture-perfect. “You’re a surprising one, you know that? First with your marriage proposal, and now with you being somewhat cozy with the idea of a little bugger of our own.” Garrett smirked. “No pressure. If it happens, it happens? And I should apologize in advance but as you know, twins do run in my family…” “Ugh,” Isabela grunted. Maybe she just had her priorities in order here, or however the do-over in this existence was supposed to go. No need to get mushy about it. “I’m simply less of a shit, that’s all - but still teetering on the edge sometimes.” A smirk flitted across her face, shaking her head and tendrils of black hair falling free when Hawke wiped her nose - it tickled, and nearly made her sneeze. “If you knock me up with twins, Hawke, I’m going to deep fry your balls and feed you them.” Figures it would be like that! How utterly terrifying - not one snot-nosed brat that was half her DNA and his, but two. “You’re the most beautiful almost-shit in all the worlds,” he complimented so romantically, capturing her booty-looting hand to kiss her knuckles. “I can’t help help the mighty strength of my sperm or the way your eggs drop, but I’ll always remember this threat fondly.” Hawke wasn’t in any sort of rush, either - things were well, Dog insisted on being their overgrown furchild that required constant spoiling and butt scritches, and the twins were still under his financial guardianship. Plus, perhaps pitching in with some babysitter shifts for little Amelia would give her more of an idea of what to expect? It had definitely been an exhausting evening with the little one, but he’d enjoyed it thoroughly. It was nice to see little lives thrive in part of the world that bred so much oddness. His burly body shifted with care, not wanting to jostle the conked out bundle in his arms. “Dare we put her down? Say prayers to Andraste and compliment the joys of her twat so she doesn’t wake up the moment we set her down.” That’d be their luck. Could they not talk about her eggs dropping? That just sounded weird - Isabela would rather say a prayer in praise of their prophet’s pink taco. After giving those butt scritches to Dog, because he was sniffing around wondering what was going on. What are you doing humans?! Such wondrous things! Plus, the sight of the tiny baby was no doubt enthralling since she currently didn’t exude a foul odor. “Grant us a bit of peace, with the glory of your tits and twat,” Isabela’s hands formed a steeple, an obvious prayer that was indeed wrought with dramatics. “Blessed be. Or whatever. I’m not even sure how these prayers are supposed to go.” Growing up in Rivain, land of Seers and heavily kohl-lined eyes watching from beyond silk scarves, no one put much stock in the Maker. Isabela had never been a believer, to put it mildly. “If she snaps awake again, I’m ready with more of Varric’s prose to share.” He’d probably be offended that it put a baby to sleep. Poor ginger dwarf. “With a prayer like that she may either bless us or smite us,” Garrett chuckled, transporting himself and the wee one from the living room to the bedroom into the portable baby bed brought by her creators. With utmost caution he eased her down, subtle with the way his hands would eventually slip away from beneath her, and once the landing was construed as a complete success, he reached for the knitted blanket that had been a joint effort from him and his mother to tuck her in with. There she goes, good girl. He let out a sigh of relief before turning to Bela. “I think we’ve done it, love. We’ve accomplished our first babysitting duty without casualties.” Aw, now look at that sweet innocent thing. Isabela stood over the bed, watching as Amelia slept peacefully - for now. It’d be just their luck if they tiptoed out of the room only to hit a crrreeeeaaaaak in the floorboards and hear wailing two steps later. But she’d try not to jinx it. “I’ll remain vigilant until her parents come to pick her up,” she snickered, slipping an arm around Hawke to give his bum a loving slap (and a squeeze) while her other hand pat-patted on his chest, over his heartbeat. “But overall, not bad at all. We did alright, didn’t we? Even Dog thinks so.” Maybe he’d stand guard while Mini-Wisdom snoozed. How cute would that be! Bela? Remaining vigilant for the child? “Feeling brave now, aren’t we, that we’ve begun mastering the skill of changing nappies?” Hawke mused, one of his brows rising. “If you think what your eyes saw was the worst of it, well, then just keep thinking that.” Next time a surprise was dropped in the confines of Amelia’s diapers and his wife attempted to tackle it, he’d have to record the entire experience even at the cost of the wellbeing of a testicle - it’d be bloody well worth it. |