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An unpredictably late night full of a fussy baby and fever-breaking drifted into early morning, gray sunlight.
It was the sort of night that had Joe pacing in the hallway, trying to act as though he wasn’t set to cry along with their kid, while George frantically sent a dozen, indecipherable texts to their resident pediatric resident that went unanswered and resulted in a panicked call.
Turns out it wasn’t much of anything - just a fever. One that burned at the touch but barely qualified in numbers. It was just there to be a nuisance, and was gone after a nightful of constant watch and being unnecessarily (and exhaustively) worried.
Turns out kids just get sick sometimes.
At least, that’s what Roe had mumbled through the phone after George finally got ahold of him and undoubtedly awoken him from much needed sleep. He was attentive, sure, but after hearing she had a low grade fever, he placated George instead by prescribing them to follow the same tips they found online and then promptly said goodnight.
Ellie developing a fever and being uncomfortable and inconsolable was just another hurdle of parenthood. It was something they rationally knew would happen, that the first time the kid got sick was horrific but surmountable, but it had been such peaceful sailing they’d let the thought get away from them.
After spending most of the night crying, demanding to be held and then put down and then held again, Ellie finally settled and drifted off a few minutes before their alarm nearly ruined their hard work of getting her asleep.
The alarm clock began beeping in the other room, and George moved faster than he ever had to shut it off. Maybe he stopped the alarm with more force than necessary, making it bounce off the nightstand, so what? He hated that clock and the horrible noise it made, and he was running low on the energy needed to be polite to inanimate objects.
He slipped back into Ellie’s darkened room, and Joe lowered his hand from where he tried to shield the noise for her, but she didn’t seem too disturbed, comfortably nestled in Joe’s arms, thumb in her mouth.
They’d have to break her of that habit eventually, but George would rather eat the alarm clock than wake her and remove her comfort after such a horrible night.
“You good?” George whispered, with barely a sound.
Joe nodded and brushed away a few strands of her hair away from her tear-sticky face. George was reassured by that familiar, expected answer.
George never had any doubt that Joe would be a fantastic father to their kid. But like always, Joe always seemed to go above and beyond his expectations, and George was continually in awe, falling more in love with him every time (and possibly even more desperate for him).
Joe had wholeheartedly thrown himself into learning to be a good dad, and maybe his attention would leave their kid spoiled, but neither of them bought into that nonsense.
There could never be too much love or anything they wouldn’t sacrifice for her. George would rather have her complain that they were too loving, too attentive and supporting (if that was even possible), than the stark and miserable opposite. He wasn’t about to let her childhood pass him by just because some know-it-all parents on the internet decided they knew the best way to raise children.
(When George asked Roe about this phenomenon, he hadn’t expected him to get so worked up, marching between English and French Cajun, until the worst of his anger dissolved when he had to pay up for the swear jar.
Camille, their daughter, was wonderfully intelligent, able to pick up French alongside English (not to mention, was able to understand the ridiculousness of Babe’s Philly accent). She was quick to jump on the rules that had been established in the house, holding out her hand after Gene had tripped up and gleefully adding it to the mostly full jar.
They watched, her red braids bouncing as she skipped to the jar to deposit the money, giggling that her papa had tripped up, finally , and that it had been in French.
Then, Gene had turned to him with a small smile on his face. “There are a bunch of different ways to parent,” he assured. “That’s all... bullshit,” he said, quiet enough so he wouldn’t have to repay his fine. “Kids are meant to be loved.”)
It felt a lot like George had already known this information, after coming from a big, bustling family, where everyone knew everyone’s business and it was a sad occasion to ever depart from the house. But, ever since Ellie came into their lives, he found himself second guessing everything because she was now the most important.
The unconditional love had come achingly easy - from the first moment he saw her, wrapped up and looking so scared and along, he was a goner. That love didn’t come without burdens of its own, but George would do it all again in a heartbeat, without question.
Sleep, sanity, and comfort seemed to be the first to go when caring for a new baby, and while George had certainly adapted to the new routine (though he never resented it), Joe barely blinked or let anyone, even George, see him falter. It was like he could sense Ellie’s needs the split-second before she realized them herself, and his arms were always open (and usually occupied) for a good cuddle.
It wasn’t the first night Ellie slept in Joe’s arms, and it certainly would not be the last.
“George,” Joe said, voice low enough George wasn’t quite sure how Ellie didn’t wake up from the feeling of it. He broke through his wonderings, and George realized he’d been trying to pull the curtains closed with little progress, his hand grasping the fabric but no strength behind the pulling.
He hummed, actions achingly slow before turning back to him.
“I got it,” Joe promised. “Really.”
It just didn’t seem fair for George to get to crawl back under the covers while Joe was sat up, a protector and comfort, within Ellie’s fairy-princess-who-is-also-a-dragon bedroom.
He would remain on first call for any further disturbances or misery, even though he’d been the first responder to Ellie’s initial distress earlier that night.
A lesser man, maybe someone less confident or possibly more awake, would find fault with Joe’s attentiveness over Ellie, while George seemed to be sleeping through the worst of it. But, George knew that their parenting came jointly, that Joe was there to rely upon and no one person did all the work.
(Not to mention, he was pretty fucking exhausted , and while he could think about how unfair it was to make Joe stay up, if he was offering...)
“You’ve looked like shit all night. Go get some sleep before you fall apart.”
George truly didn’t have it in him to be sarcastic or witty.
The last few days concerning his job had been disruptive and meandering, and Ellie getting sick topped it off with yet another sleepless night. He just blinked and winced at the dim light coming from Ellie’s lamp.
“Fuck,” he whispered, realizing. He almost wanted to dry heave from the sudden onslaught of thudding in his head.
He’d been irresponsible, too distracted, to properly prepare himself, and now he was going to have to suffer the consequences from a full-blown migraine. Ellie had come first, and he’d shoved off his usual lightheadedness and nausea warning signs as fatherly panic over a simple fever.
“Sorry,” he breathed, unable to stay where he was long enough for a proper response. Thankfully, their bedroom was just a few steps away so he could practically stumble blindly to their bed without further incident.
The migraine consumed George, barely flinching away as he burrowed beneath the covers and wished for sleep to come.
He was lucky this hadn’t happened earlier, and that Joe hadn’t had to handle a distraught Ellie alone.
Joe was a lot softer than he liked to let on, and George knew it tore him up that he was off fighting a migraine alone instead of being there as support.
Joe had been there for the worst of the migraines he had experienced.
George had ruined one of their first dates by nearly collapsing in the hallway when he tried to push through the warning onslaught and make it home at the end of the date. He had just recently begun experiencing them, and after a trip to the doctor, he was resentful and stubborn, and George would much rather be on a good date than suffering at home.
When he woke up the next morning and found Joe was still there, a safe distance away but clearly having stuck around just in case he needed anything, George fell a little bit (fine... a lot ) in love with him.
Joe had put up with his groggy, disoriented ass and then called him out for letting the date drag on instead of tapping out early. But then, once George confirmed he had recovered, Joe kissed him, threatened he’d fuck him up if he tried something like that again just for a date , and then left to get them breakfast.
Joe was a saint, clearly.
He’d come into his life at the perfect time, and George had fallen hard fast , and never looked back. Maybe it had taken a little bit of convincing to finally sort out that they deserved to be married, and maybe George had to slyly convince Joe that they should raise a kid together, but everything had worked out.
George got the ring and the kid and Joe .
He was the full package - the looks, the bod, the quiet wittiness, and the compassion, for him, for Ellie, for them .
He was almost too good to be true.
Almost .
##
The clatter, metal bouncing on the kitchen tile, shook him from his hibernation. He was lost in his blanket cocoon, only guided out by the familiar lovely giggles from Ellie, cut short by her giggled, muffled apology.
George clawed his way free, breathing in the fresh air as he blinked hazily in the darkened room.
Time escaped him, as there was no outside light in the room because Joe had clearly snuck in at some point and made sure the curtains were tucked snug against the windows, and George had thrown the alarm clock on the ground.
So far, he was good, able to stretch and turn his head without the world coming roaring into his brain.
He was lucky, once again, that Joe had given him a deservedly uninterrupted sleep, and that while it may have ended unplanned, it had been enough to chase away his migraine.
George pulled himself out of bed and tugged on his wrinkled shirt from where it’d gotten twisted up around him. He should have changed into something clean, just to feel a bit more normal, but his curiosity compelled him to investigate as quickly as possible.
As he approached the kitchen, he could hear the Disney movie chattering to no one in the living room, Pongo and his ninety-nine pups just barely escaping tragedy, and Ellie chatting endlessly at her natural, excited pace.
(In that way, it seemed both an ironic and joyful similarity between her and George, but truly cemented that she belonged with them all along.)
He saw the far reaching disaster before he even rounded the corner. White dust warned of the war zone within, sprawling in a forceful peak from the landing site much too far away.
“Wow,” was all George could think to say once he reached the doorway.
He was still gathering his surroundings, trying to get his mind back in order after being attacked so mercilessly by it the night before, and it didn’t help that the situation barely made sense.
Ellie wiggled excitedly from her sous-chef position atop the countertop and reached out to him, cheeks and arms smothered with smears of flour.
Joe leaned against the counter beside her, having obviously needed a break for his own sanity before deciding best how to tackle the powdery blizzard before him.
There had obviously been a (delightful) incident, one where baking turned into a fight, and it seemed, the flour had won. It seemed unlikely that big, strong Joe could be bested by a cup or two or twelve of flour, but after a long sleepless night, George should probably take pity on him and concede the flour had cheated.
Before Joe could open his mouth to tiredly argue, George continued inside with, “Well, how did we get in this mess?”
George wasn’t really one to show pity and to baby Joe when something went amuck. If he had the opportunity, he was going to run with it, even if it meant teasing his husband when he was already beaten down. Joe seemed resigned to his situation, having suspected that George would probably swoop in to mock his misery and turn the mess into even more of a disaster.
(George really could be a devious and rude disaster when he wanted to be, and it was a miracle that Joe ever wanted to marry him, despite this major flaw.)
And maybe he should feel guilty about walking through the disaster area, but Ellie’s eyes were bright and clear of tears, and she waved him along.
“Good morning, little miss, are we feeling better?” He questioned, scooping her into his arms. Even though he could see the answer, George still had to ask, wanting to hear her confirm that she wasn’t close to bursting into tears another time.
No longer was she hiccuping pitifully through sobs, unable to understand why she felt so bad and why her dads couldn’t do anything to fix it.
She’d been changed from her pajamas into a normal sort of lazy-day outfit, which, upon closer inspection consisted of one of George’s shirts that had mysteriously gone missing. It drooped around her shoulders and would definitely drag on the ground, tripping her up, if she decided to run anywhere.
But she was smart enough to know that she rarely had to walk anywhere unless she insisted upon it, and that someone in this household was always willing to carry her like the little princess she was.
Ellie had them permanently twisted around her little finger, barely even having to open her mouth to request anything before one of them was bending over backwards to satisfy her every whim.
Ellie giggled in confirmation and wiped her hands deliberately on his own shirt to contaminate him with the flour. When George responded, playfully aghast, she giggled another time, reaching up to pat his face and powder his cheeks as well.
“Why are you making me messy?” He asked, before beginning to lower her to the floor to accompany his teasing threat. “Maybe I should just use you to sweep up all the flour...”
“No, no, no!” She shrieked, kicking her legs up to keep from getting any closer to the floor. “Daddy maded a mess,” she blamed, quick to subvert the attention away from herself.
“Uh oh,” George said, grinning as Joe made a face. “Are you sure you didn’t make this mess?” He asked.
“No, no!” She repeated and stabbed a pointed finger out. “Daddy did it.”
“Okay, you’ve convinced me. Now, why on earth would he make this mess?”
The question seemed to take Ellie by surprise and she gaped, little mouth opening and closing as she tried to figure out the solution. She’d just barely come into her questioning phase, where every action came with a thousand inquiries, enough to pester even the most patient to insanity.
George didn’t mind stumping her at her own game, especially when it came with the adorable way she pursed her lips and looked off thoughtfully, wracking her little brain for information.
“Because he... wanteded to?” She tried, but it was clear she wasn’t entirely convinced by her own answer by the way she didn’t immediately launch into another jumbled onslaught of conversation.
“I think you should ask Ellie-Bellie why she thought she was big enough to jump from the countertop,” Joe interjected.
“Ellie!” George said, but his voice was crowded by concern.
George paused, and while he could tell she was unscathed from a nonexistent leap, he couldn’t help but check her over for any sort of injury.
She huffed, trying to grasp at his shirt to keep herself upright and out of scrutiny. Ellie was quickly becoming a master of squirming her way out of trouble just by the virtue of her being so damn cute.
“Daddy missed you,” she pointed out, jumping to a new topic to avoid confronting her own mistake.
George, satisfied she had no additional ailments, pulled her back to his chest and stole another look up at Joe. “He did?”
“Uh huh!” Ellie nodded, always the one to repeat and distribute absolutely every sentence that was ever spoken near her. “I woke up, and he asked if I was better now. And I says I don’t feel icky no more. And then said your head wasn’t okie dokie and we have to be quiet, shh . And said we should do something to make the boo-boo better so we walkeded here and started to make you something!” Her speech was fast, because she had to recount every detail and refused to muddle her way through any of her retellings. “Daddy’s going to make waffles! With choco-lit chips. Just like we likes! Because we were both feeling bleh .” She stuck her tongue out at the thought, accentuating her point with a thumbs down. “And he says he misses you, and I tolds him that you not missing, and I can shows him.”
“But instead of asking to be put down, you decided you were going to do it yourself,” Joe interrupted, refusing to let her slip away from her mistake so easily.
Ellie could talk a big game and act like she was a little genius, but she was always in need of being reminded of things constantly before they ever stuck. She was too easily distracted, too eager to jump from one thing to the next, and it was up to them to slow her down and remind her of the rules.
She was a good bit like George had been as a kid, excitable and desperate to be the center of attention. When his ma threatened all his misbehaving would come back and bite him in the ass, George hadn’t quite understood what she had meant until this little human being came into his life, full of inexhaustible energy and excitement, ready to wear him down.
“And I’m not a big girl yet.” Ellie confirmed, obviously repeating back something Joe had gone over with her.
“That’s right. And you would have gotten hurt jumping off the counter like that. And a kiss and a hug wouldn’t have made it better.”
Ellie stared at Joe intently, taking in his every word before she turned to look up at George, making sure that the information checked out.
Maybe Ellie’s carefree spirit and bravery was payback for all the hell he gave his own parents, but she sure made up for every ounce of panic and exhaustion she caused.
She was their kid, full of life and love, and had her own little quirks. She loved to check and double check everything said to her, able to level the most confident speaker with a stare that could cause anxiety. Joe was correct, though, and what he was saying was something they both knew to be true, so there was no wavering under her judgement.
George smiled, and nodded, soothing her judgement.
“Thank you for trying to look out for me,” George said, pressing a noisy kiss to her cheek, one that had her giggling and swatting him away. “But Daddy’s right. You need to ask for our help, or we can’t put you on the counter anymore. We gotta trust you to be a big girl and ask for help.”
“A big girl,” Ellie glowed, and nodded furiously. She understood that she was the baby of all the kids in their extended friend group, and while no one deliberately left her behind, there was an unmistakable age difference that could sometimes not be ignored. She still needed more than one nap a day and constant reminders and help even reaching the doorknob.
The goal of becoming a big girl , like some of the other kids, was nearly on par with becoming a dragon princess in her mind, and fortunately, George and Joe could guide her fascination with merely saying the word.
“Okie dokie.” She confirmed. “And then Daddy won’t droppeded the flour and make a mess.”
Ellie dissolved into giggles, and like always, they were contagious.
All three of them ended up laughing, even Joe, once he’d looked down and realized how covered in flour he was. He truly was a victim of this horrible accident, once black sweatpants now white and gray, and shirt, face, and hair dusted with fine powder.
“This is silly, huh,” George said, just happy that their kid was back to her normal, bubbly self, even at the expense of their kitchen.
Joe must have unluckily dropped a new bag of flour just right to have it explode in the magnificent way it did. He freed his hands just in time to catch Ellie before she hit the floor, and the two of them had gotten caught in the crossfire.
“Even though he made a mess, I’m glad it was the flour that fell on the floor and not you.” He squeezed her in a hug from where he held her in his arms. “You’re too special to us to get hurt, you understand?”
Ellie’s eyes were wide and she looked closely between her two concerned but loving parents and nodded once more. “Uh huh.”
She extended grabby hands towards Joe, but made no move to sit up, just wanting to call him over.
Joe was familiar with the Ellie-ism and moved in closer, wrapping an arm around George’s waist and effectively capturing Ellie in a family hug. Satisfied with the attention, she relaxed for a few peaceful moments of silence.
Joe took the quiet opportunity to look at George, double checking that he wasn’t just putting up a facade of being okay and that the flour debacle hadn’t interrupted and made anything worse.
George couldn't help but smile at the concern in his face, leaning up to steal a quick kiss, both proving he was okay and showing that everytime Joe did anything, his heart raced, full of infinite and pure love.
Their moment didn't last long, something he had quickly learned came along with having a child - that Ellie could, and would , find some way to dissolve even the smallest of moments. George couldn’t even necessarily say he was upset anytime they got interrupted, either, because it was still Ellie they were talking about, and she was their quite adorable baby.
Ellie interrupted the kiss with an accurately childish outburst at the sight of affection. She squeaked, wiggling in his arms as she chanted about how icky they were being.
“Kisses are icky now?” George asked teasingly, barely waiting for her to answer before he leaned in, tormenting her with a dozen noisy smooches on her cheeks, while she squealed and called for Joe to save her.
“Sorry, Ellie B, but you said I was icky !” Joe replied, leaning in with George’s second attack, locking her between two obnoxiously doting dads showering her with love.
Ellie couldn’t stop giggling, trying to squirm her way to freedom, but this was hardly the first time they’d been overcome with such radiant love for their adorable kid.
“We’re all icky now!” George said, while Ellie protested, as though she wasn’t getting covered in flour all over again.
“I guess,” Joe began, once their attack had ebbed, “we should probably get cleaned up now.”
Ellie made a face, very much against the thought of putting on proper clothes or any sort of a washing off. Joe brushed some flour from her cheek, pausing to tap her nose.
“If someone wants waffles, we’re going to have to go out to get some. We don’t have any flour,” he pointed out.
Ellie pouted, but just for a split second before reaching out to point at the snow piles still lining the kitchen floor. “Yes, we do,” she said, lapsing into hiccuping giggles another time.
“Well... She’s not wrong, Joey,” George teased.
“Shut it,” Joe snipped, scooping up the pile he’d placed on the counter for Ellie to play with and slapped it against George’s cheek. “Oops,” he said innocently.
“Oh, this isn’t fair!” George replied, while Ellie worked herself into inconsolable laughter at the oncoming flour fight. “I have our daughter! ”
He ducked out of the way before Joe could hit him with another bomb, setting Ellie on the ground beside him. “Daddy wants to play mean,” he said, grabbing a handful of flour and throwing it Joe’s way. “C’mon, El, let’s show him how mean we can be.”
While Ellie didn’t quite understand the concept of a food fight quite yet, her joy clearly lying more in just playing in the flour rather than packing it and throwing it, George still believed he had the upper hand. Instead of getting another fighter, he had an adorable distraction - Ellie had sat down, pushing flour around and throwing it above herself, letting it snow down on her hair and shirt.
George fell out of fighting pretty early on, as well, deciding more for close range attacks, but he underestimated the distance, far too easily getting trapped in Joe’s arms.
Joe dropped a handful on his head, laughing as George tried to break free from his embrace and shake the flour from his hair.
“Wait, wait! Time,” George called out, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Shit, sorry,” Joe whispered, hurriedly reaching up to brush the flour from his hair and cheeks. “Okay, should be good -”
George interrupted his worry with a vicious attack of his own, leaning forward, wrapping his arms around his neck and emptying his hands down the inside of his shirt.
“You!” Joe groaned, but tangled his hands in George’s shirt, refusing to let him run away. “Bastard whor-” he began but was cut off by George leaning in again, this time to press his lips to his, in a real sort of kiss they hadn’t gotten in over a day.
“Icky!” Ellie wailed from the floor, but they didn’t pull away just yet.
Here, with Joe beside him and their daughter safely in their protection, the bad never lasted long.
The good always shone through, even if it meant spending Ellie’s naptime failing to clean-up the kitchen because the kisses were too sweet and the situation just right.