Mik stopped as he came into the living room, taking in the scene. Scott was asleep on the couch, small fists loosely curled, breath slow and calm. In the chair next to him, Harley dozed with his head lolling to the side, the guitar resting in his lap.
A smile spread across Mikhael's face at the idyllic scene. He silently moved closer to look the sleeping beauties without disturbing them. But seeing as Harley's position couldn't possibly be comfortable, he leant down and put a hand gently on his shoulder. The blond jerked awake, wincing as he straightened his stiff neck.
"Whu-what? Mik? Oh, shit, I fell
"Judging by your snoring, yes. Some host you are for your guest."
"Is he okay?"
"Of course he is."
"That isn't 'of course'. Babies are disaster magnets. All sorts of horrible stuff can happen to them."
Mik took his hand and helped him up. "Well, you've done a great job of keeping those disasters away, then."
"Yeah. I feel kinda proud. I even changed his diapers."
"You changed diapers? How do you know how to do that?"
"Er… by guessing, mainly. And you're taking care of the next one."
"How could Aurora be desperate enough to let you babysit?"
"Sshh, don't wake him up."
They snuck into the kitchen and left the door slightly open.
Fifteen minutes later, and in the middle of very noiseless dinner preparations, the sleeping angel turned into a screaming demon. Harley sucked his finger and glared at the half-cut vegetables and blood-stained knife as if they were the ones who had startled him. Mik was already by the couch, lifting the baby up and calming him. Scott settled comfortingly quickly on his arm, and resorted to sullen blabbering.
"Some voice on the thing," Harley commented when they were back in the
"He has your singing voice," Mik replied smoothly.
"You just got yourself an extra headache, babe, I'm gonna teach the kid to sing when he gets older. Preferably while standing outside your studio."
"Not if I get him interested in the finer arts first," Mikhael stated, putting Scott in the babychair he had pulled into the kitchen.
"We're arguing who'll have the worst influence on him already? You know, if Aurie wants to get rid of the responsibility…"
"Aw, but you'd make a great daddy. There, I boosted your ego, did it help?"
"Afraid not, it is against Tabitha's rules. No pets."
"That was mean!"
"The subclause states that this includes humans that are less than three feet tall. Has he eaten anything since he got here?"
"Nope. Watched art, pooped, fell asleep. I'll check the bag."
Harley returned with a glass of orangish baby-food and a bib. "All yours, I have to find a band-aid."
The doorbell rang as Harley passed, and he opened it.
come in, be right with you," he said and disappeared into the bathroom.
"Wonder what bit him," Skids said, closing the door behind him.
"Either a hungry imp or Rasputin," Cyanide replied. They headed for the odd sounds coming from the kitchen, and was met by what Cy considered a pleasant sight. His face split in a gleeful grin as he leaned on the back of a chair, making a little "t-t-t"-sound with his tongue.
"My, my, Rasputin. You had us all stringed along nicely, and suddenly the truth is out, hm? Because, face it, we would have noticed if you had knocked up Harls. Who is the unlucky mother?"
"Aurora," was Mikhael's short reply, as Scott burbled out some of the food-goo.
you dog!" Cyanide strode around the table, slapping Mik's back and savoring
every second. "This is Springer material. Can't you imagine it? "Gay men who
get their boyfriend's sisters pregnant." It probably happens all the time,
though, so we'd have to dig up your shady past as a nymphomaniac drag-queen to
spice it up."
"Go and annoy the ferret, Torres."
Scott chose that moment to express his feelings about the feeding, and let out a wail that could have woken the dead (which wasn't too unlikely in this building). Mikhael found the jar and spoon being removed from his hands, and then Cy pulled a chair up to Scott.
"I suppose there won't be any peace here before the kid is fed," he muttered. "Just don't thank me, that'd just be weird."
"No problem." Mikhael stood up, and Cy leaned towards the baby's ear, whispering something. Then he fed spoonful after spoonful to the unresisting mouth, Scott eating it wit every sign of approval.
"Worked with all of my sisters, and probably with me too," Cy stated. "Spanish is the universal language of threats."
The doorbell rang. They heard Harley open, and then voices from the living room. Mikhael was cleaning baby-food off his shirt, and Skids was distracting Scott from the meal with a noisy toy he had found in the bag.
As Cy lifted up the baby and patted his back, the door to the kitchen was wrenched open, Harley skidded inside, and then closed it quickly and quietly. He stared around at the others wild-eyed.
"My parents are here! Hide the baby!"