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The first round of vaccinations were easier… this time around, she’s old enough to know what a shot is, and that she absolutely doesn’t want one.
"I’ll handle it." The Sniper promises.
"Will you?" The Spy sags forward, a relieved smile coming to him. "Thank you. I just know if she cries partway through I will probably try to strangle the doctor or something, and… Thank you."
"No problem." He kisses the Spy’s cheek and goes into the living room to pick their daughter up. "Come on, lamb, got to go in for your check-up."
"No." She pouts, hugging the stuffed animal she’d had closest at hand close to her chest.
"Aw, you can do it. I know there’s going to be a shot, but you’re my big, brave girl. My big brave girl’s not scared, is she?" He hefts her up higher.
"… Un peu." She hides her face against his shoulder, and he drops a kiss to her head. She still has something of that baby smell, something like milk and clean skin and something small and warm… hard to name, but there. There’s something in the smell of her hair that reminds him of the Spy, or perhaps just reminds him of home. There’s a comfort in holding her, that he hopes he can return.
"We’ll all drive together, then, how about? And Daddy will take you in and Papa will wait outside to take us out to a little early supper after. That’ll be nice. Have a bit of a treat while we’re out."
"No."
"Well, you’ve got to get a shot, lamb." He says, in the most reasonable tone he has. "It’s to keep you from getting sick."
The Spy heads outside ahead of them to start the car and pull it out of the garage, and he climbs out to grab and kiss her hands before the Sniper gets her strapped into her seat. He climbs into the back with her and lets the Spy drive. He can ride in the front after, he’s certain she’ll be calm enough then.
He lets her wrap one hand around a couple of his fingers, squeezing tight, and he reaches over with his other hand to stroke her cheek, soothing away the little trembling that always came before a good cry.
"Your old Dad’s spent more years than you’ve been on this earth giving himself shots, you know." He says, smiling as her eyes widen and the pre-tear trembling ceases. "That’s right. Twice a week, too."
"Are you sick?" She asks, her voice quiet.
"No, sweetheart. Daddy’s just fine. I just… I had a… a hormone imbalance. Big words, but— It’s nothing serious now, Laurel, lamb. I just had to give myself shots to keep everything right. It hurts a little bit, when you’re not used to it. Just like a little pinch, and sometimes it’s a bit sore, but only for a little while. Then you’ll forget about it in no time."
"Daddy is very brave." The Spy says over his shoulder. "Papa has never been very good about needles…"
"But, Papa still goes to the doctor when he’s supposed to." The Sniper stresses firmly.
"That’s right. Grownups usually do not need as many shots because you get them done when you are young. But everyone goes to the doctor when they need to."
"Treats after?" She cranes her neck to try to find Spy’s eyes in the rearview mirror, braving a smile when she sees them crinkle up warmly for her.
"Oh, I am not sure… what did your Daddy say?"
"Daddy says yes!"
"Well, then of course we will." He chuckles.
"A nice little restaurant where we can get something to eat— very brave little lambs might even get dessert."
"I am!" She nods emphatically. "Daddy, I am— I’m brave!"
"Oh, for dessert, she’s brave." He laughs, kissing the top of her head. "Well, all right, then."
The Spy waits, more nervously than he would ever care to admit, while the Sniper takes her in to get weighed, measured, looked at, listened to, and boostered. He tells himself it’s ridiculous— he’d been fine on earlier visits, after all, before she’d developed quite the level of awareness she had to be nervous herself.
When they come back to the waiting room, she isn’t crying, though there are a few tears brimming in her eyes— a clear, light blue, like the sky, like the Sniper’s— and she isn’t quite ready to smile, even with her Daddy bouncing her on his hip and telling her how brave she’d been.
"It hurt." She complains, as she’s passed off to the Spy.
"Does it hurt now?"
She pouts and ponders this, and there’s a little uncertainty behind the shake of her head.
"Ah, she is her Daddy’s little girl." He laughs, kissing her forehead. "See! In a moment you won’t feel it at all, and then we’ll eat, at the cafe with the green and white curtains, the one you like. And tomorrow we’ll visit Michel, and you’ll have forgotten all about it."
"Am I really brave as Daddy?"
"If anyone is as brave as your Daddy, ma mignonette, it is you." He promises. That seems to settle her, and she leans her head against him and smiles.