Work Text:
“Can I see your baby?”
It’s Purpled, standing a few feet away, one hand fiddling with the other as he watches Fundy awkwardly shuffle his things over to his new temporary residence.
When Fundy says nothing, Purpled fumbles nervously for the original reason why he was directed over here to begin with; “Q said you might need some help and uh—“
“Sure.”
Fundy sets down his possessions and beckons the teenager over, gently pulling away some of the cloth that kept Yogurt bound to his chest. The baby stirs gently in his sleep, but otherwise, he doesn’t do much.
Purpled leans closer, closer; as if Yogurt is a particularly interesting museum exhibit.
“Can I hold him?” He asks, curiosity on his face.
“Maybe after I get settled in,” Fundy hums, tucking the edges of the cloth back where they belonged.
“Okay,” he nods, “I can help with that.”
Later, once he's all settled in (as settled as you can be in a new temporary home, in a man-made desert with a motley crew of people you wouldn’t expect to see working together), he hands Yogurt over to Purpled for a minute or so.
“Usually he’s fussy when he meets someone new,” Fundy says, “But I think he likes you.”
Purpled looks between Fundy and the baby in his arms, saying nothing.
“One of the first things I ever remember was Punz holding me,” he confesses, quietly. “I dunno where they’ve been lately.”
After a few more moments, he hands the baby back over to Fundy and goes back to his own shack that he’s cobbled together outside of Las Nevadas. Fundy retreats back to his own home moments after, taking Yogurt with him.
He holds him a bit tighter than usual tonight.