Entry tags:

!complete, garrus vakarian, pete wisdom

Who: Wisdom & Vakarian
What: Garrus seeks Wisdom's wisdom (lolololol) about fatherhood
When: Today
Where: The Agency
Rating/Warnings: Language mostly, Pete drinking on the job like the role model he is
Status: Complete!

Vanishing twin syndrome. That was a thing - it occurred when one of the two didn’t survive in utero so the other, ah, absorbs the fetal tissue (absorbed was what was used in the text, and it squicked him a little). It was among the topics Garrus Vakarian read about ever since they discovered they’d hit the ‘twin jackpot,’ and it was entirely possible he’d gone overboard purchasing a mountain a books. Entirely possible that he was obsessive doing his own research online, devouring as much information as possible for preparation, too.

But soon they’d inform the masses, and he kept a vigilant (Cindy might use the word ‘overprotective’) eye on his wife like a looming alien gargoyle. It was always emphasized that the twelve week milestone was safe territory and, usually, that was true. And yet when a pregnancy is described as ‘high risk,’ it brought a myriad of concerns.

Concerns he needed to vent about to someone who had once done his own obsessive research. Pete Wisdom had blown a hole in his pocket over books when the news once hit him, hadn’t he? Neal had eased some concerns, but Garrus could use an extra view point to assess things. Advice on how to adjust to not one but two infants on the way.

Assuming one didn’t absorb the other. Spirits, what the fuck was this so-called ‘miracle of life’?

“I need to pick your brain,” was the first thing the disguised turian said, leaning against the doorframe of Wisdom’s office with crossed arms. There’d been nothing of urgency that needed attention on the Agency’s side - it’d been dead, the latest debacle a singing craze he fortunately dodged - so to hell with paperwork, to hell with government jargin, to hell with earning a salary while on the clock. “Metaphorically speaking. And I’m going to need you to stop googling dicks on your computer for a moment.”

Only Orange County could go from ‘the sky vomiting demons’ to ‘everyone awkwardly bursts into song to confess their dumbfuck feelings.’ And as usual, Pete Wisdom wasn’t impressed. But when was he, really? Still, the recent downtime had been something he took in stride - spinning the latest cover story and researching the origins of the latest oddness was a bit more fun when it didn’t involve a terrible musical. While he gave off vibes that he’d rather shut himself away in a cave of solitude, he didn’t mind some adventure and danger on occasion and needed both sometimes or else he’d get bored and the itchy, fiery trigger finger would act up. No wonder he’d married someone who was one and the same.

Glancing up from his computer, his expression wasn’t unfriendly, just surprised, chilly arctic waters - and he watched the his alien friend over the rim of his glasses, stylish black frames. Sometimes he needed them when he was staring at a screen all bloody day, on those rare occasions. Like now. But he’d gladly take them off.

“I’m surprised you took a break from googling Asian tentacle porn - “ Or was that more Hawke’s thing, “...to come see me. What do you need?” And was he out of coffee already? Well. There was no way he was heading into the break room to get more. That stuff may as well be sentient bubbling sludge.

There was a slow, curious raise of an eyebrow there. “Asian tentacle porn’s an oddly specific genre,” Vakarian pointed out - maybe he wouldn’t pick that part of his friend’s brain, no. But he entered the office fully, closing the door behind them even if privacy meant little to shit around a place here. Cameras everywhere, their phones bugged, Big Brother watching you whizz on a urinal cake. It was a government building. Everything was monitored, but he didn’t want Joe the Janitor to pop in randomly during their talks.

It was best to be straightforward, too. Just dive into the topic. “You know how I saved some of my, ah, human DNA in a cup for a rainy day in the future? We went through the whole rigamarole - procedure, fertility drugs. It took on the first try.” They were lucky; for some people it was a long, drawn out process. “We’re officially expecting, she’s not far from the twelve week mark.”

And Garrus was happy about it too - the light in his eyes that made them seem less cold, the small curve on his mouth gave it away too. Their trek towards parenthood was on purpose, so the news was definitely good, and the two of them were as ready as they could ever be. “But you’ve known our luck. There’s always a catch.”

Usually in a dry, comedic way. His relationship with Cindy endured many things. Blown up houses, kidnappings on Valentine’s Day, foot-in-mouth confessions of love, more than one attempt at a marriage proposal until a club full of vampires proved to be the lucky charm. Someone out there, somewhere, was laughing at their expense. This was no different.

“It was a recent debacle involving stalwart sailors, but don’t worry, your tentacle time will come I’m sure,” Wisdom promised, folding his glasses and paying attention to whatever it is Vakarian had on his mind - the door was shut, and despite the eyes and ears everywhere Pete rummaged for the usual miniature bottle of whiskey he often spiked his coffee with in a veritable ‘fuck you’ to Big Brother. They hadn’t had a proper Agency director until Romanoff nominated herself for the job, so what was the worst that could happen?

Besides, he was sure she did the same thing. Except with vodka.

Except then, as he was taking a small swig, he coughed because the pungent liquid sloshed down the wrong pipe. “Wait, so you’re going to be a father? Congratulations then, mate. It’s quite the mindfuck to think of what’s in store, isn’t it?” he smirked.

Like endlessly dirty nappies, crying, sniffles, other revolting things that babies did and what they put into their mouths. Pete wouldn’t trade any of it, however. When Amelia got all snuggly with him and then was a sly demoness for her mum two minutes later, it was all worth the sleepless nights. “What’s the catch though? Everything’s alright?”

No surprise there about Wisdom’s secret (or not so secret, if you knew him) stash - he himself was tempted to ask for a swig, fuck his changed physiology. Garrus sunk into the seat across from him and visibly decompressed, that militaristic posture misplaced by a slouch. “Everything’s alright, it’s just…multiplied. By two. Twins. We’re having twins.”

Their chances increased with, of course, the prescribed fertility drugs but even then multiples weren’t exactly common - that really was just the luck they had. “There’s pregnancy and then there’s high risk pregnancy, and for now all it means is more scheduled visits and closer monitoring.” Cindy was healthy and sturdy, he was aware, but things could go awry when not only one but two growing lifeforms hijacked the body.

So he read, researched, and tried to mentally prepare himself for all potential scenarios. An early birth was practically inevitable, it was common for twins to come out underweight and needing extra-incubation time in the NICU to fatten up before they went home, and then the increased chances of c-sections. Cindy getting sliced open and her organs set aside while they dig out for twins?

He’d seen pictures. It was fucking gruesome, but nothing that couldn’t be handled.

“Twins??” Pete repeated, and he hadn’t been expecting that - certainly, the chances were increased due to taking fertility drugs. But he honestly didn’t know anyone who had twins so this would be a first for many parties involved, he was sure. “Double the trouble, especially if they’re your offspring,” he chuckled. “And growing up here.”

Well. That would just be a jolly good time, wouldn’t it? Right in the middle of all the madness and the mayhem.

But he could tell that Garrus was obviously anxious - a singular pregnancy was a lot, but carrying twins, that would understandably take more of its toll on the mum. “It’s rather intense, fascinating, and terrifying how pregnancy changes the body - I don’t blame you for being
concerned about the high-risk aspect. Try not to fall too far down the rabbit hole though?” he advised. Books and research were great, even helpful, but you didn’t want to overdo it. Otherwise you’d go mad.

He even set the bottle of whiskey on the desk between them, in case Garrus wanted to risk intestinal discomfort and partake. “I’m here for whatever you need, you know that. You’re welcome to practise with Amelia as much as you like, since you can never have too much when it comes to mastering baby messes and shit in the nappy.” Reading, and practical applications - a winning combo.

God, whiskey. He could smell it. Garrus took the bottle if only to keep it close (he wasn’t hugging it, but he also was not not hugging it) for fantasy purposes. He had his own cabinet of spirits at home - they typically sufficed, but he had periods of where he found himself missing the human things. “I won’t,” was his answer, but the lack of confidence made it not all that convincing. “Or, hell, I’ll try not to. It’s new territory. I’ve never done this before, so I’m trying not to overanalyze all the things that could go wrong - like one of them absorbing the other because it didn’t make it. I am excited, though. Equal parts nervous, but excited.”

But practicing with other children wasn’t a bad start. Practical hands-on experience, he was all for that. He hadn’t even held a baby until his friends started having them (how he had dodged that most of his life, he would say it took precision and skill), and now he was having two of them.

He’d seen Niko go helicopter piss on Neal before. Multiply that by two? Garrus found himself taking a quick shot of whiskey, stomach ache or the possible alien shits be damned. “Not going to reject the offer, either,” he choked out - turian taste buds were a little different, so the alcohol burned a strange way he hadn’t expected. “Might need to see if you and Neal can spare me both of yours for a night or weekend for that double crash course.”

Ah, yes, sharing a bottle of whiskey (not like that bothered Pete - they’d swapped spit before, thanks so much Orange County renegade mistletoe) while on the job. Such a ‘fuck off’ to the boss it was but like Wisdom cared. They’d get their work done. They always did.

When talking about twins, a father-to-be needed the extra shot of fortitude regardless. “I suppose one could be absorbed by the other, but Christ,” Wisdom winced. “That sounds like something from a sci-fi film. I’ll say we’ve a greater chance of being attacked by a giant spider again than your twins have got of one eating the other.” Not eating per se, but Vakarian knew what he meant. And let’s face it, the odds showed they definitely had a greater chance of spider attacks - small as it was (did lightning strike in the same place three times?).

So see, nothing to worry about.

“Practising with both a boy and a girl ought to be good. They’re ‘round the same age too, so that’s a splendid idea. Suppose you’ve also got a couple of months before you can register for all the odd and necessary things you’d need for two sprogs.”

Pete had a point. Fetal cannibalism was less likely than this place losing it’s damn mind. Not that he thought it’d happen, nah - but spirits, the development of human life was bizarre. He never gave it much thought until now that his life was flipped upside down, more so than it ever was when he experienced his first sequence of dreams.

“If it’s anything like scanning things for a wedding,” Garrus chuckled, remember that part of the process - Cindy going back and forth through the aisles like a game of ping-pong, but this one would be driven by the force of hormones. “How’d you prepare for all this? Considering yours was a surprise.”

He returned the whiskey too, back to the desk where it belonged. He’d pace himself if he was going to imbibe on human alcohol.

“You mean after I nearly fell over from shock?” Pete grinned crookedly. He remembered that trip fondly - Lina buying a pregnancy test in a petrol station, the drive to New Orleans, all the delicious cuisine she missed out on because she was feeling sick and her father thought she had the shits. Oh, and he’d owed her a new TV too, can’t forget that. “I did a lot of reading and researching, like you’re doing no doubt. I didn’t really have friends to practise with though, no one had children of their own. So a lot of it was instinct and sort of learning on the job.”

Which Garrus would do his fair share of, no doubt. Every pregnancy was different and every baby was different - they had their own quirks, though no one was blessed with a completely pristine little human who slept eighteen hours a day and was quiet all the time. Ha.

“One of the things I did was put together an aftercare basket for my then-fiancee,” he added. “Sounded kind of ridiculous at first - “ And neither of them could say nipple cream with a straight face, “...but she ended up using what was in it and appreciating it all.” That lessened how much of a wanker he felt like putting together the whole thing - but really, Pete was just trying to be helpful. Lina had pushed out a tiny human, so he didn’t mind taking on most of the dirty nappies or messes. She’d done enough hard work.

An aftercare basket? Garrus made a note of that. A lot of his reading did involve what happened postpartum, all of the details brutally gruesome but such was nature. It was important for the one doing the birthing to be properly taken care of too - and he was already willing to cater to every single whim of Cindy’s. Bring it on.

Even if it meant looking for a place that carried those elusive tofu nuggets at the asscrack of dawn. Only special stores carried those.

“Doesn’t sound the least bit ridiculous,” he mused, elbow propped on the armrest as he leaned his cheek into his fingers. “I’m trying to approach things practically - and give her space when she needs it because I can’t imagine what the hell it feels like when your body’s been practically hijacked. Cindy’s a bit of a tiny terror when those moods switch from A to Z thanks to the changes. Things are supposed to be easier during the second trimester, so I hear? Legend has it, anyway.”

Fond memories of the rapid switches between A to Z when it came to hormones as well - it was quite the ride, so to speak, though Pete had just gone along with it all. Not like he had much room to complain about anything - he wasn’t the one baking a person (the man being knocked up, that sounded like something from terrible fanfiction).

“I do remember that Lina stopped being sick during the second trimester - well, less of it, anyway,” Pete said, rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s generally when all the ‘glowing’ happens. There’s less stress because the chances of miscarriage drop quite a bit. And then comes the urges to fuck all the time.” Yes, hormones. What wonderful things.

Really, he just went with it throughout the whole experience. He did what he was told. Safer that way.

Well, wasn’t that something to look forward to? Garrus was grinning, actually, human facial features and all - that tension in his alien bones had visibly eased out, and it was just so hilarious to listen to Pete. Not that him rambling about pregnancy and babies was a new thing anymore, but he remembered how things used to be and yet, look how things changed.

It was also nice to listen to multiple viewpoints. He and Neal, they were good sources of research themselves. Friends he could count on to give him a brown bag to hyperventilate in once the two nuggets entered the world and began terrorizing their parents.

“You’re filled with such words of wisdom,” he quipped. Get it? Wisdom? Pete Wisdom? Yeah, puns. Garrus was awful. Cue the throw of rotten apples his way. “But that babysitting offer is definitely there when you two need it for our own good, seriously. If you two need a night to set things on fire and anonymously make it on the news again. I just need to, uh, go through some baby proofing?”

The Vakarian household was wired with all sorts of things. It wasn’t a joke or exaggeration when he said he could make a weapon out of anything. A good skill to have for government agents who could always be targets for one reason or another.

Yes, that pun was awful - it was also one both Pete and Romany had heard quite a bit over the years, and it just made him roll his eyes. Oh, Vakarian. Your humor would never cease to amaze him.

“I have been sort of craving a brief holiday to the UK - and Amelia wouldn’t do well on a plane for that long, so we might just have you play nanny,” he said, considering this more and more. Seemed like a good idea, no? That way he could take Lina to a lovely castle, they could pretend to be royalty for a bit (and troll for summer homes, perhaps, for when Amelia was a little older), then return to the utter madness that was their lives.

He’d expect plenty of photos and updates, however. Hopefully there would be some amusing surprises in store. “By the way, she’s mobile now - so you’ll get loads of practise running after a toddling child.” They were faster than you might think, too.

Mobile? Garrus grimaced. He didn’t know what would be more stressful - the wailing infant that shat diapers constantly and was as fragile as glass, or one that was older, moving, and able to get into all sorts of shit.

“Already? Spirits, time’s gone way too fast. I think Niko’s about that point too,” he mentioned, considering his first birthday was recent as well. He and Cindy made a trip out, obviously. Nothing could stop the Cuddelfishes from reuniting. Theirs was a bond better than Twilight. “Well, that’ll be great - we’ve got surveillance cameras in about every corner of the house so there’ll be footage. I’ll even give you access to watch from your phone for the hilarity. Just do yourself a favor and don’t peek that the bedroom? Unless watching an alien and fairytale princess intercourse is interesting to you.”

Whatever rocked Pete’s boat.

The look on Pete’s fact at that - it was that expression of horror that had marred his rugged features after Lina caught him and Garrus snogging because of the bloody mistletoe. So no, needless to say, he would not be peeking in on Vakarian during those rather intimate moments.

“Not much for that sort of thing, mate, you’re safe,” he assured. There was probably an ongoing joke about how British porn was stale and bland and how the British didn’t even watch porn anyway, since they were stale and bland - but Wisdom couldn’t say he agreed. He didn’t dislike it, but he never really got into it either.

Especially when it involved an alien - his alien friend. Christ.

“On that note, I better get back to work,” he added, taking another swig of the whiskey bottle for good measure. In order to provide the courage he’d need to not flip the desk and watch out. “We’ll discuss this upcoming baby borrowing session soon.”

“Don’t look so scared,” laughed the turian. This talk was exactly what he needed too, and he’d meant to tell Pete about the news - he and Cindy were telling a select few, close friends and the like, and he considered Wisdom part of that. They’d helped one another when their respective wives had gone missing; that meant some kind of brotherhood. “But, ‘work,’ right, with your whiskey. I’ll let you get back to your functional alcoholism.”

Sometimes it was the only way to get through this place, wasn’t it? Garrus was the last to judge.