Work Text:
The alarm sitting on the bedside table startled him out of sleep. Eyes peeling open, he squinted at the blurry figure that tapped it off, sleepily reaching out to pull the person onto him.
Eret collapsed awkwardly onto his chest, hiccupping in the cute little way they only did when regressed. As Foolish closed his eyes, the gangly babe on his chest wriggled and moved, rolling so that they were between his legs, one wrong turn from crushing his nuts if they moved.
“G’mornin’,” she slurred, voice all soft and chipper like it was when they were mentally a little younger than their physical form.
“Morning, kiddo,” he managed back, hooking his arm around them to keep them close as she began squirming. “Up early today, huh?”
“Dahie,” she chirped, trying again when her tongue wouldn’t work right; “Daddy.”
“Yes, munchkin?”
“Needa potty,” came the giggle.
Grunting, Foolish sat up, folding Eret into his lap in the process. His little stared up at him with wide eyes, expecting the arm that curled under their pyjama bottoms and smiling giddily because they knew what that meant.
“No wiggling,” he warned customarily, knowing they’d be too busy clinging to him to fall but worried nonetheless.
“Yuh, yah,” they agreed, nodding along to a beat of their own as their long arms slipped over his shoulders and their head plopped down on his collarbone. Shifting out of bed, he worked the blankets out from the ensnarement they’d gathered in and shivered at his bare feet making contact with the chilled wooden floor.
Sparing an eye for the time, he quickly made the necessary calculations before standing up with Eret in his arms. They usually had about an hour to spare before he needed to get to work – most of that time was usually spent cuddling when Eret was big, but when they were little and he needed to get them ready to come to work with him (because no way in hell was he leaving his little baby alone when they were so young) most of the allocated time was spent trying to make them eat breakfast and changing them.
“How old are we right now, kiddo?” He asked, a decent picture already in his mind from their behaviour.
Eret hummed, fiddling with their fingers behind his back as he entered the en suite. When he set them on the cushioned stool that sat in the bathroom specifically for days like these, they obediently unhooked their arms and showed him their splayed hand.
“Five?” Foolish smiled, briefly turning to flip the toilet seat down. “Little girl’s nearly a babe.”
“Nuh-uh,” she chimed in, legs kicking out. Her heels tapped off the wooden bar of the stool, the little tilting their head to watch as their pyjama bottoms flared around their moving limbs. “No baby, ‘m big! Big, big, big!”
“Ta-ta,” he chastised, grabbing her leg mid-swing. “Big girls don’t hit their heels off stools.”
“Fun,” pouted the little.
“Hm, but what about Mr Stool’s feelings?” He inquired, grabbing them by their armpits to ease them onto their feet long enough to pull their bottoms down. Settling them on the toilet, he made sure they wouldn’t topple over before turning to get their toothbrush ready. “What if Mr Stool gets hurt because you hit him?”
“Don’t be sad, Mr Stool,” they rambled, taking up a conversation with the stool as Foolish washed his own face and got to work on his morning routine. When Eret chirped at him, he blinked and found them standing beside him, bottoms pulled back up to their hips. “Done, daddy.”
“Good job, kiddo,” he ruffled their hair, smiling as they preened under his touch. “Did you wipe and flush too?”
“Did wipe-wipe but no fwush. Too hard,” they shook their head.
“That’s alright, kiddo. That’s why daddy’s here, to do all the difficult stuff.” Foolish pecked them on the forehead, passing them the wet facecloth to clean their face. “Wash your face and hands, baby.”
She took up a small conversation by herself as he pissed and twisted the handle. If they had found it difficult to push down on that, he doubted they were going to be five for long.
Stepping back to the sink, he eased his little’s toothbrush into their hands and promised them a strawberry smoothie if they started brushing their teeth while he shaved. Eret ended up back on Mr Stool, diligently concentrating on brushing their teeth to the best of their ability.
Foolish kept an eye on them as he ran the blade over his skin, ridding himself of the dreaded shadow on his chin. He was nearly done, bending over to splash a final wave of warm water over his skin when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a blob of foamy toothpaste trail down their chin and drop onto their pjs.
“Uh oh,” they burbled, looking down to the patch and thus making more drip from her mouth. Foolish speedran the finalities of his shaving regimen and scooped up a towel to pat his face dry alongside the used facecloth.
“Look up at daddy, kiddo,” he called, greeted with the sight of his baby gawking at the foam that now covered them like a toddler given free reign on whipped cream. Chuckling at their predicament and getting a confused grin back, he daubed at them and did a good job of getting them clean. He even swiped at the dollop on their bottoms, knowing they’d try to touch it if he didn’t do something about it. “Look at you, all clean and pretty now.”
“Pretty like daddy?” They chirped, stretching and yawning like a tiny kitten.
“Even prettier,” he smiled, taking their brush from their loose grasp. He gave them a few final swipes, brushing the backs of their teeth before deciding they were fine. Foolish startled at the watery pout that met him when he turned back around from rinsing off the brush and dropping it into its holder. “What’s wrong, baby?”
“Dun wanna be prettier than daddy,” they hiccupped, fingers twisting and bending as her lips wobbled. “Dah- Daddy’s pwetty, dun wanna- wa—”
“Hey, baby, shh,” he cradled their cheek, tapping their nose as he vocalised the ‘bop’. “That’s okay. Daddy thinks you’re beautiful.”
They hiccupped as he popped a kiss on the exact place he’d bopped. “Bwootifool?”
“Beautiful,” he repeated with a smile, slipping a thumb under their eye to reassure them. Eret leaned into his hold, clumsy little hands coming up to grasp at his large wrist. He watched them for a moment, internally fawning as they wobbled through an adorable yawn.
Deciding to finally get them changed, he lifted them from the stool and held them close to his chest. She lay against him, eyes fluttering shut as one hand moved to clutch at his shirt. “Baby tired?”
His only response was Eret snuggling closer to him, pressing their nose into his collarbone. After making sure they were secure in his carry, he edged the en suite door open and re-entered the bedroom.
“What’ll we dress you in today, kiddo?” Humming, he eased them onto the bed, letting them roll there as he turned to open the wardrobe specifically for Eret’s age regression.
Foolish had been there when Eret first started regressing, both of them learning together why they sometimes couldn’t speak and why she sometimes wanted to play with crayons and playdoh instead of writing essays. It was cute, he always thought, to have a little babble up at him, all bright eyes and innocent smiles.
Eret was just delightful; a cute little ray of sunshine.
“Daddy,” came a whine.
“I’m here,” Foolish chirped back, stepping back over to them with a few outfits in his arms. She smiled up at him, one hand wrapped around her ankle as she wriggled on the bed. Her other hand rose, making grabby hands at him. “I’ll hold you in a second, baby. What do you wanna wear?”
Gesturing to his selection, he lifted them up, showing off the fluffy onesie alongside two other outfits. The onesie was probably their best bet, because from the looks of it they were getting younger by the minute, though he didn’t want to deprive them of the choice of showing off their big hooded dress with strawberries sewn into it.
The little stared at their options, hand around their ankle waving it back and forth. Finally, their head dropped against the fluffy blankets as her foot pointed to the light pink onesie. It was fluffy and hooded; unicorn themed with tons of the little horned horses sewn into the fabric. On the hood was a unicorn horn – soft, of course, to avoid any injuries – that sparkled with the glitter thread it was sewn with.
“Sure thing, baby,” he said, dropping it down beside them on the bed. She wiggled some more, rolling onto her stomach to grab at the plushie that always sat at the end of the bed. Now with Ted in her arms, Eret calmed down, stilling to lie in a curled up ball.
Foolish turned to grab a bodysuit – because the onesies could sometimes get too warm and they needed to have something on under that – and span back around at a thump to find Eret peering over the end of the bed.
“What happened, baby?” He cooed, coming over to distract them with the choice of picking out a bodysuit. He dropped the yellow Winnie the Pooh one beside the mulitcoloured green one that looked like a flowery meadow, though they were much more interested at staring at the floor.
“Ted,” they answered, hand flopping down to grab the bear. Foolish quickly put his hand on their back to stop them from wriggling off the bed.
“Did Ted fall?” He questioned, even though he could guess what happened. Ted falling off the bed was a daily occurrence at this point.
“Yuh,” she burbled, turning her big wide eyes on him. “Daddy save Ted?”
“Daddy’s gonna save Ted,” he assured, stepping around to grab the bear. He made a little whooshing noise and slowly lifted the plush, making it seem as though he was flying up to them. Little Eret didn’t even notice, too busy staring at the bear he clutched.
As the bear was dropped gently in their lap, he ruffled their hair. “Ted has been saved, kiddo.”
“Tankie,” they mumbled, slurring their way through their thanks.
Foolish hummed a little tune as he grabbed a slip-on from the drawers, setting all his things beside them on the bed as he got to work on changing them. Eret was surprisingly well mannered and docile as he slipped the pullup on and buttoned up their bodysuit, only squirming once when he slipped the babygrow onesie over their feet and loudly zipped it up.
“How’s my baby?” He whispered, easing them up into a sitting position. Their eyes were half-lidded, Ted clutched tightly to their chest as they tapped at their lips in sign for their paci. “Baby wants her paci?”
Sleepily nodding, Eret cracked their jaw on a yawn and blinked as though surprised. Smiling down at them, he reached out to the bedside drawer and slipped his hand into the top drawer, fingers tapping the plastic box-outline they kept the pacifiers in.
Nudging a clean purple paci into their hands, he watched as it was shaken about by the handle before his little plopped it into their mouth, making a happy noise as they offered up an arm for a lift.
Hoisting them up into a hip carry once again – because they were honestly lighter than a feather, though that might’ve been due to his religious weight lifting routine – Foolish carried them down the stairs and into the kitchen, softly easing them into the high backed baby chair. Anyone that entered the apartment unaware would think they had a child, but no, Eret could slip into one of the older ages toddler table seats (after a bit of modifications for their longer legs and slightly wider hips) and so one sat almost constantly at the breakfast island for days just like this.
Taking one look at them, Foolish doubted he’d get much food in her; half asleep, softly sucking on their pacifier with a deathgrip on its handle, Ted sitting watch in their lap.
Flipping on the radio, he dialled the volume down low and started making himself an omelette. Eret got some chopped up baby carrots to nibble on while she waited, although she was sleepy enough that she only stared at them.
Although a risky question, he turned to her and asked, “You want a couple boiled eggs, baby girl?”
She shook her head quietly, movement lethargic and slow. Her little fingers were still wrapped around her paci’s ring in a death grip, unmoving even as they responded.
“Hmm,” he vocalised, finished cracking his eggs into the bowl for his omelette. Stepping over to the large but sleek fridge, he pulled out some vegetables and cheese. “How about porridge?”
Silence met him. Figuring Eret had went nonverbal, he looked back to them just in time to catch their head shake. That was a no for porridge, it seemed.
Smoothie, he thought, catching sight of the strawberries laying in a box on one of the fridge shelves as he looked back to shut its doors. He’d promised them a smoothie earlier...
“Does my baby girl want a nice smoothie?” He hummed, turning again to find them blinking wide blue eyes at him. He smiled, raising an eyebrow, and Eret nodded almost frantically.
“Alright,” he laughed. “One strawberry smoothie coming right up.”