10001 Nightmares Party

[Fic] i must have been wrecked all along (Hit the Floor)

Summary:

There is a baby on Jude's doorstep.

Notes:

i was so sure AO3 had a wish baby tag? why can't i find it???

Work Text:

The baby is on his doorstep.

Jude, freshly ready for a new day at the office, now officially a member of the Devils, blinks at the tiny thing with a travel mug of coffee in one hand and a briefcase in the other, his foot one wrong step from landing in the baby’s basket. Glancing around the empty hallway, he furrows his brows and bends, nudging the large yellow blanket out of the way of the plaque on the wooden basket’s front. It bears, proudly, the name of the child’s parents.

“Oh,” Jude says, blinking more. He looks at his cup and then his briefcase and then the baby; something has to go, he thinks. There’s no room for all of this.

Placing the briefcase and the cup on the floor, he picks up the basket, the weight of it all very nearly dragging him right back down. He kicks the door shut, wanders over to the couch without looking away from the peacefully sleeping baby, and places the entire load on the coffee table. Stares down at it, his gaze sliding right back to the plaque. Exhales, shakily.

Drops onto the couch, legs no longer bothering to hold him up. The baby doesn’t react to the large thud, or the muttered curse, and he bites his lip, looks around for somebody to help him and remembers, in searing vividness, that he’s alone. That he chose to be alone. That he—

The baby won’t wake up until he touches her, and he stares and stares and stares at her tiny little nose, the faint dusting of eyebrows, the rosy cheeks. The sunlight drops onto her like drops of stars, and Jude inhales sharply, movement stirring within him as he moves to get his phone. To take a picture, to call the emergency centre; he doesn’t know. But he manages to get a hold of it without looking away from the baby, and he presses his lips tightly together as he fingers the phone.

He’s late.

He missed messages from Lionel, and even Zero. But they’re the only ones who have this number, and he drops the phone after a quick message to Lionel that he’s sick, and won’t be coming into work today.

And then he stares at the baby again. It still hasn't moved.

“What am I going to do?” he murmurs, the sound large, a goliath in his empty apartment. 

Jude pokes the baby’s nose, just the barest hint of a touch, but it’s enough to wake her, her eyebrows scrunching up and her tiny nose wrinkling as her eyes open, and he can’t help leaning closer, watching every flicker of the eyes, every movement of the miniature muscles. “You’re cute,” he informs her. “It’s not a good thing, for me.”

She coos. He bites down on a smile, smoothing his expression out before it can settle into anything solid. Touches her nose again, her eyes failing to follow the motion. Smiles, a little bit; can’t help it. “You’re gonna be a mess to deal with, you know,” he mutters, fingering his phone again. He doesn’t have anything needed to baby’s expect what comes with the basket, and he digs through it now, eyes narrowing as he inspects the onesie, the small package (artfully wrapped in a silken pink ribbon) of nappies, the bottle of what’s supposed to be authentic, magic breastmilk.

He needs to call the centre. Get the baby registered. Call Zero, let him know before the centre calls him in turn. 

Smoothing his finger over the baby’s warm cheek, he forces in a breath and finds Zero’s contact, pressing call harshly before the courage leaves him. It goes to voice mail, and Jude tries to convince himself the pang in his chest isn’t disappointment.

He doesn’t do a very good job of it.

“Hey,” he murmurs into the phone, voice low so as to not disturb the baby. “Can you come over, as soon as possible? I need you.” And he ends the call before regret can set in.

Then he looks at the baby. “You don’t come with a name, right?” he murmurs to himself, trying to remember the old lessons from high school. He never paid as much attention to them as he should have, he thinks, mind always a million miles away, planning and wondering about his future. So he doesn’t remember all the details, but calling the centre is a good start, he thinks, and so that’s what he does, still sitting and staring at the pink-cheeked baby, rambling answers to every question he’s asked because his mind is too far gone to focus, until at last he’s got an appointment for tomorrow and strict orders to hug the baby.

Jude hugs the baby. Holds the tiny person tight to his chest and sits on the couch, one hand on the baby’s neck at all times because he remembers that, at least. Don’t let the neck go, he thinks to himself. Don’t let go.

Somebody knocks on the door.

It’s been an hour since he picked up the baby. She’s slumbering on him now, tiny puffs of breaths leaving her, and he looks at the door, looks at the baby, looks at the door, and realizes he can’t figure out how to get up without letting her go. And he’s not letting go. 

“If you’ve got a key, come in,” Jude says, fiddling with his hand until he can sort of press it against the baby’s ear to protect her hearing and raising his voice only just enough to get through the door. For a second, he thinks he’s guessed wrong when nothing happens, and then there’s the sound of keys giggling and the door handle moves and Jude’s eyes go from the opening door to Zero’s, annoyingly handsome, face.

Zero says, “Hey, I thought we were pretending I didn’t keep your key,” gaze dipping around every visible part of the apartment from the entrance, clearly not registering anything until the door it shut and locked, and then he looks at Jude and freezes. “Is that—?” he licks his lips, staring at the baby on Jude’s chest.

“A baby,” Jude says. He nods to the basket. “Delivered this morning.”

“That’s why you skipped work?” Zero crosses the distance in what feels like the blink of an eye, appearing right in front of Jude and the basket, spinning it around and knocking over a glass in the process that he expertly catches it before it can skid off the table. He looks at the plaque, and Jude’s eyes are glued to Zero’s face, couldn’t look away if he wanted to.

Zero stares at the plaque—doesn’t blink for so long Jude worries he’s gone into shock. “Ah,” Zero says, “That’s why you need me.”

“It’s not—”  Jude presses his lips together. Feels the baby’s fingers clench in his shirt and when he looks down, her eyes are open and looking right back at him. “She’s yours, too,” Jude says, “Of course I need you.”

Zero laughs, but it’s not—it’s broken, a little. Shattered. Not the honest, genuine joy Jude is used to being able to nudge out of Zero, and it hurts, too, that he’s lost that. That he tossed it away, and of course Zero isn’t happy that he called on him, that he asked for his help. Jude’s the one who told him to stay away. “The appointment with the centre is tomorrow. It would be easier if you come along.”

“You think I can visit the centre without it blowing up in the paps?” Zero asks, crossing around the table to sit at Jude’s side on the couch. He peers at the baby, gaze slipping up to Jude every few seconds, and Jude inhales sharply, the movement rocking the baby, and she pats at his aching chest, and he shakes his head.

“We’ll figure something out. You’ll ride with me, and we’ll go in the back. Wear a cap, or something.” Jude notes the increased movement in the baby, and he holds onto her neck carefully, carefully, oh so carefully as he scoots forward and puts her back in the basket, lingering just a little before he lets her go.

She doesn’t seem hurt, at least. 

“I’m sleeping here in that case,” Zero says. “And skipping training tomorrow.”

“You can’t skip training,” Jude looks back at Zero, startled at how close they’d gotten while he wasn’t paying attention. “Are you skipping training now? You can’t—”

“Skip training, I know,” Zero rolls his eyes. “I told them I had a family emergency, they let me go right away.” At Jude’s look, he smirks a little. “They can’t actually stop me from leaving for family emergencies.”

“But this isn’t—”

“Isn’t it?” Zero interrupts, softly, looking at the basket. Jude has the irrational urge to cover her for a moment, hide her away and keep her safe, where nobody can hurt her and she’ll be safe. Zero murmurs, “A baby out of the blue? Isn’t that pretty much the definition of a family emergency?”

Jude licks his lips. Exhales. “So you’ll come tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Zero says, and he even sounds like he means it. Like it’s easy. Like this rift between them, this breakup, isn’t because of Zero’s inability to commit. To properly commit. To a family, to him, to whatever they could be if they gave it a proper chance. If they tried, properly and for real.

“Liar,” Jude mutters, pushing off the couch and getting his travel mug back. Chugs the coffee—still warm—and ignores the distinctive sensation of Zero following him, grip tight on the mug.

“I’m not lying,” Zero says behind him, and Jude shuts his eyes for a moment, breathes in deep and holds it in cold lungs until the earth stops moving beneath his feet and he can concentrate on what’s relevant. But Zero steps closer, right up behind him, and repeats, softer, gentler, kinder, “I’m not lying, Jude. I won’t ditch her.”

“That’s—nice,” Jude manages to get out, spinning around and oh, that’s a mistake. 

Zero is looking up at him in that way he does that empties Jude’s head, scatters his thoughts, trips his heart right up, and he can’t even be mad, truly, because Zero just said he’s not abandoning their—their, oh, she’s theirs—daughter, and that’s a good thing, isn’t it? “So a baby is what is takes to lock down the great Zero, huh?” Jude asks, and he knows it’s a mistake as he’s saying it, knows it’s only his own bitterness creeping out through the edges he tries so hard to control, knows that Zero doesn’t deserve it, not truly. Zero has always been clear about what this, them, is; it’s Jude that couldn’t stick to the deal.

Rearing back a little, Zero says, “It’s not the same.”

“No.” Jude shakes his head, presses a hand to his eye for a second. “No, you’re right. I’m sorry. Of course you’ll stick around for your kid.” And not me, he doesn’t say, but he thinks it comes through loud and clear from the way Zero freezes, his next breath sharp and controlled, eyes narrowed on Jude, looking right through him.

“You know what a wish baby means, Jude,” Zero says, and Jude clenches his fist. He doesn’t want to have this conversation right now, and he’s tired of always going in circles with Zero, tripping over the same fault-lines without ever putting up danger signs.

“I know,” he says, looking over Zero’s shoulder to the baby. She’s not looking at them, and he’s a little bit worried she hasn’t cried yet. 

Zero says, “Then you—”

“I’ve been clear, Zero.” Jude shakes his head. “If you’re gonna confess your eternal love for me now that we have a kid together—”

“Jude.” Zero says his name so softly, so gently, that it punches all the air right out of Jude’s chest, his lungs constricting so painfully his eyes water. He bites his lip, refusing to look at Zero, and Zero says, again, softly, gently, “Jude. Look at me.” Jude does. Of course, he does. He can’t not, have never been able to stop. It’s a problem, and it’s not helped by Zero looking up at him, charm dripping from every pore, saying, so earnestly, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Jude says, eyes burning. 

Zero smiles, eyes crinkling, and they’re so beautiful—Jude could spend days getting lost in them. And yet. Yet. “It’s not enough. Love isn’t enough.”

“Jude—” The baby cries. Jude shakes his head, brushes a hand over his eyes quickly and hopes Zero has mysteriously and spontaneously lost his observational skills and missed Jude’s expression, and he brushes past Zero, goes right for the baby. Ignores Zero’s presence, the echoing footsteps behind his own, and he stares down at the baby. Takes a deep breath and picks her up, hand going right to her neck again. Don’t let go of the neck, he thinks to himself again.

It’s all he knows about taking care of babies, really, but he’s going to do it well.

Zero has followed him. Jude glances over his shoulder, exhales, says, “She doesn’t smell.”

“She’s probably hungry. Babies eat like, a million times a day,” Zero murmurs, eyes on the baby. Jude turns so he can see her fully, forces himself to keep his grip under control lest he accidentally hurt her, and it’s almost okay when Zero’s entire focus is on the baby. It’s almost bearable to look at him, to see that intense expression when it’s not directed at him, when the intensity isn’t a weapon battering at his walls.

“There’s milk in the basket,” Jude says, glancing around. “Should we… warm it up?”

“Nah,” Zero shakes his head. He reaches out a finger, and Jude doesn’t stop him. Watches, intently, studies every line of Zero’s body, every twitch of his expression, drinks in everything he can steal before he’s caught and Zero’s walls go up again. “The milk that the babies come with is magical, or something. It’ll keep perfect until the bottle’s opened.”

“How do you know that?” Jude wonders.

Zero’s gaze switches up to him, looking at him briefly from below his eyelashes, and then he looks at their daughter again. “Foster care,” Zero says. Clears his throat, shakes his head a little, and steps right up to Jude, staring at him in a blatant challenge as he reaches out and grabs through the basket without looking until he grabs the bottle.

“Right,” Jude says, dumbly, mind empty.

Zero grins, a little mischievously, and Jude’s mind go blanker, still. He didn’t think that was possible, he thinks to himself, watching Zero shake the bottle. “Can I?” Zero asks, holding up the bottle to the baby.

“Of course,” Jude murmurs, managing to tear his gaze away. He thinks—he needs a moment to breathe. Zero is—Zero is. Jude’s defenses against Zero are hastily built things, scraunched together from scraps and rubble, and it won’t hold, he thinks. If Zero keeps looking at him like that, at their kid like that, if he keeps standing so close that Jude can almost breathe in his warmth, if he keeps feeding the baby with such concentration, such obvious seriousness, then… where does that leave Jude?

Clearing his throat, Jude looks away, out the window, forces his gaze to stay put through the rest of it, until Zero declares, “Done,” and steps back, bottle nearly empty now. “We should probably get some formula before she gets hungry again.”

“Probably,” Jude agrees. 

They look at each other.

Jude says, “You look good.”

And Zero laughs a little, brushing a hand through his hair. “Thanks,” he says, “I’m good at fixing that.”

“Fixing that?” Jude’s eyebrows furrow.

Zero looks at him. “I miss you.” And Jude can’t look away this time, is entirely arrested by the warmth in Zero’s eyes, and he has to breathe, has to force the air down his throat and into his lungs before he goes airborne and floats away on all these feelings of his. 

His teeth catch on his lower lip, just for a second, but it’s enough for Zero’s to follow. “I miss you, too,” Jude breathes, confession torn from him without concious will. He flicks his gaze down to the baby he’s still holding to his chest, and he finds her looking at him again. Adjusts her, so she’s not being quite as squished. “I really miss you,” Jude murmurs.

And for a few minutes, nobody says anything at all.

Jude can’t get his thoughts in order, mind scrambled by everything that’s already happened, and Zero so close, looking at him like that, professing his love? Yeah. Jude is weak, probably. He’s always been weak. It’s why he stuck by his father—by Oscar for so long. Why he wasn’t able to let go of that one final tiny piece of hope that maybe, just maybe, maybe, one day maybe Oscar would… but of course he never did. Why would he?

And he loves Zero so much more than he’s ever loved anybody before, he thinks. Even the baby; because she’s a baby and she might be his, but he doesn’t really know her yet. 

So.

Yeah.

“I don’t—” Jude shuts his mouth and shakes his head, and he turns his head away. Noses at the baby instead of looking at Zero, and breathes in deep, holds it until it aches so much he can almost trick himself that’s what the aching has always been, only ever too little, too much, air. Blinks for just a moment too long, and forces down another, hitching, breath. “I don’t know how to do this,” he confesses to the baby, and pretends Zero isn’t here at all.

“The baby, or me?” Zero asks.

Jude huffs a laugh. “You,” he says, and looks at him again. Smiles. “It hurts to look at you.”

Zero bites his lip, stares at him, and Jude doesn’t know what he’s waiting for but after a minute he huffs again. Adjusts the baby, trying to get a better grip on her. “Alright,” Zero says in the midst of it, and steps right up to him, snagging his neck and pulling his head down with a hand, dragging him right into one of those kisses that curls his toes and sends sparks down his spine. Jude can’t help sinking into it, letting himself go just for a moment, just long enough that the sound of the phone’s camera going off multiple times barely registers.

“What do you think?” Zero pulls back just enough to whisper, turning Jude’s head to look at the phone he’s holding. “Good pics?”

“Yeah,” Jude breathes, breathless still, gaze focusing after a beat too long. They’re good pictures, Zero obviously skilled, and Zero grins at him. Presses another kiss to his lips, and then pulls back before Jude can properly press back. Quickly, clearly knowing exactly what he’s doing, Zero pulls up instagram on the phone and chooses the picture that clearly show them not only kissing, but the baby between them. Zero turns the phone a little bit more toward him, still holding onto his neck, and when Jude nods, Zero captions the post with babe & baby. 

And Zero presses post.

Jude’s eyes widen. Somehow, all through watching Zero get the post just right, Jude still thought he’d change his mind. That Zero would stop at the last second, shake his head, pull it back. But. But.

“I love you,” Zero says, and Jude smiles. Zero drop the phone, and pulls Jude back in for another kiss with both hands, careful of the kid between them, and Jude shuts his eyes, his heart a pounding mess in his chest, and leans into Zero as far as he can go. “Love you,” Zero murmurs against him, into him, and Jude is a melting puddle of goo, unable to to do anything byt hang.

When they separate, Jude presses his head into the crook between Zero’s neck and shoulder, and he rubs his suspiciously wet eye on Zero’s shirt. “Love you, too,” he whispers, and allows himself to drown in Zero’s embrace.

Notes:

not what i originally set out to write (i was thinking kid fic + lots of domestic fluff) but satisfied nonetheless :D

(didn't realize until after i read Spikedluv's fic more of us that yeah, Jude's behavior pushing Zero to come out is pretty shitty, but I don't have the energy to go back and change this. maybe some other fic sweat if i ever write more for this, lol)

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#Fandom: MISC - TV #Post Type: Fic #Rating: Teen #Status: Complete #Tag: Angst #Tag: Fluff #Tag: Pining #WC: 1000-5000