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The baby was crying. He groaned, turning on his side as his hand flopped uselessly against the cold mattress. His eyes narrowed, the dark ceiling stared back at him. It took him a hot minute to realize that his husband wasn’t in bed. His body froze, eyes widening in shock. He looked over, and sure enough, Wilbur was nowhere to be found. He hadn’t known he could move so fast as he did then, wrapping the blankets around himself before heading quickly towards the nursery. Fundy’s wails echoed around the house, his heart hammering in his chest at the thought that Wilbur had finally snapped. His feet stumbled along the grooves of the wooden floor, a hand pressed to the wall despite his eyes having immediately adjusted to the darkness the moment his brain woke up. He needed something to keep himself from crumbling in case Wilbur chose to一
“You’re going to wake the entire damn world at this point.” He paused at the doorway, surprise crossing his usually stoic face at the sight of his husband holding Fundy in his arms. The baby had latched onto Wilbur’s yellow sweater, little hands curled around the cloth as he continued to weep. His husband was trying to rock him back to sleep, bouncing him up and down, desperately trying to shush him back to sleep. A smile found its way to his face. He leaned against the doorway, letting Wilbur deal with their child. There was an almost fond look in Wilbur’s dark brown eyes, one he’d only ever seen directed at him or to Wilbur’s brothers and father. He’d never looked at Fundy like that before. “Why are you so fussy tonight, hm? Nightmare?”
All he got was a long string of babbling that slowly devolved into cooing the longer Wilbur continued to speak. George held in his giggle, wanting to savor this moment before his husband turned and resumed the ‘I-hate-him’ act. Wilbur ran a hand through Fundy’s soft curls, patting the fox ears gently which made Fundy burst into a fit of giggling. His husband chuckled along with Fundy before he pulled the child closer, a small tune escaping his lips. “You like my voice? You like Wilbur’s voice, little fox? This is just our little secret, hm? No telling papa, alright?”
George rolled his eyes at that. Despite being “alone”, Wilbur still insisted that their baby know him by ‘Wilbur’ . That choice surely won’t cause Wilbur any grievances in the future. Surely not.
He forced out a yawn, rapping lightly on the wooden door. His husband froze up, turning to look at him with a panicked gleam in his eye. Gogy tried to look sleepy, slowly walking into the room and towards Wilbur who held a squirming Fundy in his arms. “Not tell me what, Wilbur?”
“That I’m planning to throw Fundy in the well.” Wilbur tried to scowl, an “irritated” look crossing his face. Despite the supposed agitation, Wilbur made no move to pass Fundy to George or to place him back inside the crib. If anything, he only seemed to hold the baby closer to himself, looking slightly upset when Fundy began to reach out to George. He wrapped the blanket tighter around himself, shivering despite the heat that emanated from the heater. “Little shit woke me up with his fucking crying. I told you we shouldn’t have taken him back with us.”
“You’re right, I’m taking him back right now. Give him to me一”
“Fuck off, George.” His husband growled, a guttural noise that reminded George that Wilbur wasn’t entirely human. The piglin hybrid snorted, bouncing Fundy in his arms as their son’s eyes began to close, a small yawn escaping him. “As if I’d let him off that easily. He’s still prey.”
“Uh huh, sure. You’re keeping him around because he’s just prey.”
“Why else would I keep him around? He’s practically useless at everything but screaming and crying.” George had to roll his eyes at that sentiment, not missing the way Wilbur tried to immediately shush Fundy the moment murmured sobs pierced through the air. Their son was too young to really understand what they were saying, but from the way the fox hybrid was pouting, you would think he knew. Wilbur wrapped his arms around Fundy, tucking the baby’s head beneath his chin. That same look of adoration appeared in his husband’s face before it was replaced indignation the moment George had begun to giggle. His husband truly was a softie at heart. “Oh be quiet, love. I spent too long trying to get him back to sleep for you to wake him.”
George smiled, watching his husband tend to their baby whose eyes had finally closed. A hand held onto Wilbur’s sweater, the grip easily removed due to the lack of claws for Fundy to use.
He shuddered at the memory, refusing to even entertain the thoughts that circled in his head. There was no point in reminiscing such a moment, not when there was no need to. Their little Fundy would never have to know. Wilbur continued to hum his tune, the sound finally clicking inside George’s head as the lullaby that Wilbur said his father used to sing to him and his brother, Techno, when they were still children. His husband rubbed a hand against Fundy’s back, the little fox hybrid curling closer around himself as his hold moved to his fluffy orange tail. George cooed at the sight of his son being his adorable little self. Wilbur moved to place Fundy on the crib, arms shaking before he finally laid Fundy back on his bed. Unfortunately, that move woke Fundy up. His golden-flecked brown eyes gazed up at Wilbur with a look that screamed utter betrayal. Before Wilbur could move away, Fundy reached up to grab his hand. “Wiiiiiiiiillllllllll!”
They both froze. Wilbur stuttering before turning to George with a smug look.
He scowled.
They’ll see who’ll be laughing in the next few years.