Work Text:
"Hey, so Akiko left me a parting gift," Byrne explained, his voice crackling over the bad phone connection. "Or perhaps, it's better for me to say that I left her one."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Tyrell asked. Byrne had always been one for wordplay and beating around the bush when he could get away with it. Sometimes the lack of getting to the point was annoying, sometimes a useful tactic in stalling for time. In court, he was always straightforward enough; a prosecutor with an eye on the truth. But in private, well, there was more time for joking around and wordplay when lives weren't on the line. All in all, it was part of what made the man, and Tyrell had come to accept it as such.
This knowledge and acceptance didn't help Tyrell understand the point Byrne was going for at the moment. He glared at the brick wall in frustration as he held his phone in one hand, a lit cigarette in the other.
"She's pregnant, Tyrell. She wants to know if I'll take the baby."
Well, there was the straightforward explanation he was after.
"Well, do you want to?"
"I don't know if I can," Byrne admitted. "Not alone, anyway. With a partner, though…."
Tyrell took a long drag of his cigarette, then dropped it, extinguishing the embers with the butt of his heel. "Let me think about it."
He'd never been able to say no to Byrne. It had been impossible ever since the day they'd met.
The man had offered him a drink at the bar near the precinct, and he'd accepted, if with a wary eye, and the two had talked for hours. Perhaps it was odd for that to grow into a working relationship, and then a more domestic one, but then, Tyrell had never been the most straightforward guy, and neither for that matter had Byrne.
At any rate, there he was, three months later, moving into a new house with his—well, with Byrne Faraday, and helping him figure out how to prepare for their new arrival. Every day brought a new choice to make, whether it was what colour to paint the nursery or what car seat was best, and new concerns were just as abundant. Moving together would make budgeting for the baby more feasible, both in terms of time and money, but it still wouldn't be easy.
The one thing Faraday hadn't asked of him was to quit smoking; he'd done that of his own accord. Smoking around kids was a surefire way to cause asthma, he'd been told, and he wasn't going to be the one to ruin Byrne's kid's lungs. He'd never have been able to forgive himself for that.
Nicotine patches hadn't worked too well, nor had nicotine gum. Really, the only thing that had was lollipops. Apparently, his attraction to cigarettes had been more of an oral fixation than any chemical need. Or perhaps this was just the whole replace one addiction with another thing, and he'd lucked out in being able to move from smoke to sugar.
At any rate, lollipops were cheap, safe to have around babies if he was careful, and still could look intimidating if people didn't get too close.
Part of him missed the excuse to get away on his smoke breaks, and the way it let him catch a few minutes to gather his thoughts in the midst of the precinct's bustle, but the benefits were worth it.
For one, Byrne said he could already smell the difference after a few short weeks. Apparently it made him better to kiss as well, though they didn't indulge too often.
For another, it gave him a way to be friendlier with kids. Or at least that's what Byrne said. All the ones in the neighbourhood still seemed to find him pretty intimidating, but he saw the draw nonetheless. Sometimes you needed a big guard dog in order to scare away the bad guys. But even guard dogs could be friendly and affectionate when there was nobody to chase off.
He just hoped that their new kid saw it that way.
Kay Faraday was perfect. There were no other words for it. None in Tyrell's vocabulary at least.
She was tiny–he could hold her body in both hands, little legs dangling off at his wrist. And when he held her sleeping form against his chest, he couldn't think of anything more precious.
Of course, she had a set of lungs on her, too. It was hard to imagine a Faraday who wasn't loud, who didn't alternate between love and orders. Hers took a bit more deciphering than Byrne's requests for evidence, warrants, and forensics scans, but he was learning to understand them bit by bit and day by day.
And she, in turn, was falling in love with him. It was clear in the way she calmed down in his arms without fail. It was clear in the way she'd fall asleep against his shoulder, to the lullaby of his heartbeat.
And he was falling more in love with her every day. Even if it meant giving up his partner to a few months of parental leave. Even if it meant sleepless nights as she cried and cried. Even if it meant hours of pacing and trying to control his temper when withdrawal finally decided to rear its ugly head.
Every day, every moment, somehow seemed more worth it with her around.
Even if he'd read the books with Byrne, and studied countless websites, he still wasn't ready for the speed with which Kay grew and changed. It seemed like barely a day went by when she didn't pick up some new skill, whether it was smiling or rolling over, or reaching to hold her bottle in her own tiny hands. (She hadn't been quite successful in that last endeavour; the grip had been fine, sure, but lifting the bottle up to tilt the milk towards her was apparently still well beyond her ability or understanding at the time.)
It was harder to notice how she physically changed from day to day, but photographs showed a clear progression; each set making her look far older than the previous ones had.
Every once in a while, he was able to catch one of her milestones firsthand.
Tyrell had been exhausted the day that Kay first learned to crawl. The current case on which he was assigned had kept him up all night, staking out a nightclub that they were fairly certain was involved in a human trafficking ring. Kay had cooed at him when he arrived home, sitting on the floor as she was wont to do those days, toys piled around her to form a perimeter in case she tried to roll too far. He'd said his hellos too, and taken a shower under Byrne's orders before setting up camp on the couch so that Byrne could get ready for work.
The morning had actually passed relatively uneventfully. Somehow he'd not drifted off—he wouldn't have a chance for that until Byrne got home from today's case, and then he'd manage a few hours before seeing if that night would bring the big break they were waiting for—and Kay had been fascinated with a new crinkly toy that they'd purchased the weekend before.
He'd just put it down a few feet away from her, preparing to pick her up and go for lunch. However, it seemed, Kay had other plans. She let out a shriek, and next thing he knew, had crawled over to claim the toy once more.
Well, he thought as he picked both her and the toy up, she'd earned the right to have it accompany them. Plus, they'd have something exciting to show Byrne when he got home.
While Tyrell wasn't convinced that scrapbooking was an essential part of childrearing, Byrne seemed to think otherwise. And so, once or twice a month, they'd gather mementos of the time that had passed—photographs, ticket stubs, a lock or two of hair and the like—and dutifully write down the pertinent details relating to each, as well as any other major milestones that had passed since the last time they'd undergone the practice.
They were doing their second scrapbooking round in November, when the conversation shifted to the upcoming holiday season.
"Were you planning on going anywhere for Christmas?" Byrne asked, frowning as he tried to figure out the best angle to paste down a picture of himself and Kay high-fiving.
Tyrell grunted as he capped the glue stick once more, knowing Byrne would forget to do so otherwise. (He always did.) "Not really anywhere to go."
"Perfect." Byrne looked up at him grinning, then pursed his lip as he thought of the way that sounded. "I mean, not that it's perfect that you don't have somewhere to be, but my folks aren't exactly on speaking terms right now, and I'd feel bad shipping Kay off to Akiko's without me, so Kay and I were thinking of having Christmas here. And it'd be better just the three of us than just the two of us, don't you think?"
When had Tyrell ever been able to deny either Faraday anything?
That first Christmas was far from perfect.
Kay discovered the Christmas tree, and it was only the miracle of good reflexes that had kept her from knocking it down several times. Eventually, they set up a gate around it, which had the downside of making Kay cry, but would keep her safe. Still unable to deny her completely, Tyrell let her touch it from the safety of his arms on a few occasions.
Neither Byrne nor Tyrell had any experience cooking a Christmas meal, nor the energy to do so with an infant around, so they made the decision to order KFC on Christmas Eve and Chinese on Christmas instead.
Also, Byrne refused to believe that Die Hard was a Christmas movie and insisted on watching all fifteen Muppet Christmas specials instead.
Still, as Kay tore into a wrapped gift with uncoordinated gusto, he could think of no better way to be spending the holidays.
With any luck, it would be the first of many with his new family.