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Aziraphale gingerly carried Kristoff toward his bedroom.
“Papa, I have to do a wee.”
“Oh, all right,” He replied softly and changed direction to go to the washroom
“No”
His brow furrowed. He asked softly, “No?” Aziraphale cocked his head “I thought you said you needed a wee?”
Kristoff bit his lip and nodded. His voice shook a little. “Can’t go.”
“Why is that, dear boy?” The principality was further confused. He knew Kristoff was occasionally pee-shy but this seemed to be something different. “I would give your privacy, of course,” Aziraphale offered.
“No,” he replied. When papa stayed quiet, he did his best to explain. “Tried. Can’t go.”
“I’m sorry, I still don’t understand, sweetheart.” He searched the bundle in his arms for any immediate signs of injury, but to no avail.
Kristoff was starting to get frustrated. “Pee-pees won’t come out!” He whimpered as tears slid down his cheeks. “Hurts, Papa.”
The pain and desperation in his son’s voice broke his heart. “Would it be alright if I did a quick scan, love? Just to make sure everything inside is tickety-boo?” The moment Kristoff hesitantly nodded, Aziraphale started his scan. Oh, fuck! Not only did his little boy have three broken ribs, but the poor thing’s pelvis was fractured in such a way that it was preventing from being able to urinate properly. To make matters worse, Kristoff’s bladder appeared moments from quite literally bursting. He uttered a concern-laced whisper, “Oh, oh, oh, my precious baby boy.”
“Papa?” Kristoff looked up with big, worried eyes.
He softened his already-overly-gentle tone. “Don’t fret, dear boy, your Papa has you. It’s all right, sweetheart.” Aziraphale knew the moment he realigned his pelvis, was rather likely Kristoff would void his bladder immediately. He briefly considered carrying him to the washroom. However, the principality’s concern lay with keeping his son comfortable, and their great big rocking chair was far cozier than the chilly bathtub ledge. Plus, a bit of wee could easily be miracled away. He nodded to himself and made his way to Kris’s room.
Kristoff knew Papa was trying to be gentle, but every time he moved, his whole body screamed. “Hurts,” he whined, “Papa it hurts.” Crying made zaps of sharp pain shoot around his ribs and down his back.
The poor thing looked a hint green. “Oh, dear, I know does. But I’m going to get you all fixed up. Papa’s going to take wonderful care of you, my little trooper.” Aziraphale cradled him closer.
He nodded and relaxed as much as he could in Papa’s strong, safe arms. “Trust you, Papa.”
“I trust you, too, dear boy.” The principality steeled himself. “Now, this may hurt for a moment but then you’ll feel much better, all right?”
“’Kay.” For the first time since the Bentley hit him, Kristoff wasn’t scared. Even though it might hurt more, there’s a chance he’ll feel better! And, no matter what, he was in the safest place in the world – Papa’s arms.
There was a very, very loud snap in his lower tummy. Kristoff yelped. White, hot pain exploded through him, running up his back and down his legs. Slowly, the pain ebbed – but the hot didn’t; it kept getting stronger. He looked down and realized he was wetting himself. “Sorry Papa! I-I-I didn’t tell it to come out!” A deep crimson flush heated his cheeks.
“It’s all right, sweetheart, it’s quite all right,” Aziraphale assured him. “That’s it, dear boy,” he encouraged. “Oh, my, that must have been uncomfortable!” The angel held his son, murmuring sweetly to him. Good lord, the poor dear’s torrent was still rather strong and there seemed no end in sight.
Kristoff snuffled, hiding his face in Papa’s chest as he went. Even though he knew he wouldn’t be in trouble, he didn’t want to make a big mess! Kristoff squirmed and pressed his legs together. His stream tapered a bit.
Aziraphale instructed softly, “No, no, dearheart, don’t try to stop it; you’ll hurt yourself.” A muffled cry confirmed his little one heard, but was clearly unhappy. “I’m not upset, Kristoff.” He held the snuffling bundle closer and felt his baby’s muscles relax again. “Good boy. There’s my good boy,” he praised as heat flooded his lap anew. The principality continued his assurances, “That’s it, you’re all right.”
Finally, his deluge came to a natural stop. Kristoff looked up Papa with watery eyes. In a thick voice, he managed, “I’m done.” Papa smiled softly, snapped his fingers, and everything was dry again. Kristoff sighed. He was clean and Papa wasn’t mad. His side still hurt a little. But it felt lots better than before.
“There we are, much better—” Fresh warmth soaked through his trousers. Oh dear.
Kristoff gasped as a big burst of pee pooled between his legs. Tears rolled down his cheeks. “Papa,” he sobbed. “I didn’t mean to!” His little body shook with hard, choppy cries. Papa had just cleaned him up and he was getting them both all icky again! Tiny spurts kept uncontrollably squirting into his underwear He remembered that his papa told him to not stop it if he needed to go… but he hadn’t expected it to happen so fast! He didn’t even know he had to go potty until he was doing a wee in his pants! “S-s-sorry,” Kristoff choked, hiding his face in Papa’s chest again.
“Oh, sweetheart, my dear boy, there, there. You’re all right,” he cooed again. Aziraphale felt he sounded very much like a broken record. But his baby seemed to like the repetition, as Kristoff’s cries softened to quiet sniffs under his whispered, loving assurances.
Despite still dribbling in his soaked clothes, Kristoff gathered the courage to ask, “Not mad, Papa?”
“No, dearheart, I’m not upset at all.” He hugged his boy a little tighter. “Your body has been through a great ordeal and it may be a while before you can have a proper wee again.” A confused pout met his soft gaze. “My dear, your bladder was nearly stretched past capacity, it had to work very, very hard to not…” He paused, searching for something less fear-inducing than ‘rupture. “Erm, to not let anything escape.”
Kristoff frowned. He was trying to understand the big words Papa was using. But he was wet and sleepy and his willy kept leaking and it wasn’t his fault! He sniffled. “Work hard… work hard and now b’adder tired?”
“Yes! Precisely!” Aziraphale confirmed.
A big grin spread across his face. “Like when ‘istoff sleep after park?”
“Indeed! Just like when we come home from the park!”
He wiggled, excited that he understood. “’istoff sleep on Papa shoulder!! Pee-pee comes out ‘cause b’adder sleepy!”
“Yes! Oh, yes, dear boy!” Aziraphale said, relieved that Kristoff, at least, partially grasped why he couldn’t control his bladder just yet. The poor dear had only been toilet trained a short three years prior, and still wore protection at night. His voice softened considerably as he asked, “Kristoff, sweetheart? Since we’re giving your body a bit of a break, do you think you could wear your nighttime pants?”
His little eyebrows furrowed again. “In the day?”
“Yes, during the day. I believe they might make you more comfortable.”
Kristoff pouted. Nighttime pants were only for in case he had an accident when he was asleep! He didn’t have accidents when he was awake! His pants warmed again and he looked down. He mumbled “Oh yeah, b’adder sleeping.”
Aziraphale waited patiently. He wanted Kristoff to make the choice. Of course, it would be considerably easier if his son chose to wear protection. But the little one had just been through such an ordeal, he didn’t want to compound his distress by forcing him to wear a nappy.
“Okay,” He agreed softly.
The principality beamed. “I’m so proud of you, dear boy!”
“’Cause gonna wear nighttime pants?” Kristoff asked.
“Well, yes. Kristoff, that was a very grown-up and good decision you made. I know it wasn’t an easy choice to agree to wear your pull-ups during the day. But you’re doing the best thing you can for your body and that makes me rather proud of you.”
Papa was proud of him! He did good! The exuberant smile stayed on his face all during his bath, and even got a little bigger when Papa handed him his nighttime pants. It felt weird to put them on in the daytime, but Kristoff was doing what he was supposed to. And that’s what mattered to him!