Work Text:
A clatter of plastic and wood causes Martin to look up from the book he's barely been paying attention to. Laurie doesn't cry as his tower topples, but he frowns and makes a frustrated whining sound before picking up random pieces once more and thumping them hard on the ground. Martin bites his lip and tries to go back to the book.
He is taking none of it in. The same paragraph has been flickering at him for half an hour now.
They're trying this new thing at the moment which Jon had read about at work. (Since his paternity leave ended, Jon has been spending an increased amount of his work hours researching parenting techniques. Increased from his baseline amount since Laurie was old enough to lie on his tummy and look up, which was not low by anyone's standards.) The new thing is uninterrupted play. Apparently it strengthens confidence and self esteem; lets young toddlers learn to trust their own abilities, solve their own problems, or else to ask for help themselves, rather than having solutions offered to them. It all sounds wonderful in theory, but Martin is struggling with it.
What with looking after the house, and himself, and Laurie, it's still less often than he'd like that he gets to sit down and just play with his son. As much as he possibly can, of course, but the rest of the hours in the day are cut down by nappies, making food, trying to get Laurie to try different foods, cleaning, letting Laurie ‘help’ him with cleaning, which doesn't exactly make chores more efficient. Then, they try to get some outside time in every day that it isn’t miserable out. See friends, run errands, look at the clouds. Laurie especially likes watching dogs in the park. Then Jon will come home, there's tea, there's dinner, there's more nappies, there's bathtime and then bed.
So, yeah. There’s not indefinite play time, and very little that can be safely independent except for toys on the living room rug. And Martin really likes their toys on the living room rug times. He can't not exclaim ‘good job! wow!’ as Laurie grins and babbles and knocks things together. When he pictures a baby left to puzzle without encouragement, without help or a hug or a smile, it seems neglectful.
Truthfully, when he pictures that baby, he thinks of himself. And whilst he might have grown up with independence and problem solving skills, there is no way in hell he's giving those to Laurie alongside a heaping of abandonment issues.
But Jon had insisted they just try it. Gauge Laurie’s reaction. Just for a bit. And he hates being at work away from the daytime hours of playing and parenting so much, he isn't trying to be patronising when he suggests Martin try x or y. He just wants to be helpful. Wants, as obviously they both do, the best development for their son.
So, Martin is trying to read and introduce Laurie to the power of silent companionship.
The tower crumbles again and Laurie looks about to burst, his little face red and puckered.
In a moment, Martin is on the rug with him, knees clicking. ‘It’s okay sweetheart. Look, you can do it. I'll help you.’ Laurie looks up at him with huge, wet eyes, lip wobbling. ‘Aw, Teddy bear, it's alright,’ Martin promises, desperate to stave off tears. His son’s and his own. ‘Daddy will help you. Here-’
They cuddle and examine the different shapes for a while, and Laurie doesn't cry, and Martin could with relief and a joy that feels like cheating, breaking the rules to indulge in innocent playtime.
Then, of course, keys rattle in the door, and Martin registers but decides in a moment of defiance to stay and own it, rather than wrestling himself upright only to be seen doing so. Jon of course comes straight from the front door looking for them, and catches him in the guilty act of pushing the most stable shaped blocks into Laurie’s hand and tapping the flat middle of the rug. He raises an eyebrow.
‘Oh hi, love, you’re home!’ Martin smiles cheerily.
He gets up as swiftly as he can, patting Laurie's soft head, and runs to put tea on so as not to incur his judgement, only briefly stopping to kiss Jon’s cheek once he has a mug to ply him with.
‘How was work? I'm thinking bolognese? Oh!’ before Jon can answer, ‘Hey, good job Teddy! That’s so tall! Well done baby!’
Jon does not sip his too hot tea. He walks past Martin, into the kitchen. The fridge rattles and Martin winces. It feels like it's his chest being opened, bones shaken around and examined for their utility.
Jon calls him.
‘Yeah?’ he calls back.
Sheepishly, he watches Laurie chewing a block. There’s nothing that especially needs supervising. Nothing dangerous. No good excuse. Jon doesn't answer. So Martin grimly accepts his fate and walks shuffles strides into the kitchen.
‘Do we need anything?’ He tries. ‘For dinner? I think we have every-’
‘No. Yes I think so.’
‘Okay.’
‘I thought,’ Jon says slowly, ‘we were tying the independent thing?’
Martin glances defensively over his shoulder. Deflecting. Through the doorway he can still see Laurie, but already he feels the uncomfortable rubber band stretch in his chest, being away from him.
‘Look,’ Martin says, and he exhales slowly, trying to regulate them both. ‘I don’t like it. I’m sorry, I just don’t . I see him trying to do the thing he wants to do, and I want to help him achieve that. I can see the best way so-’
‘Yes but he’s supposed to figure it out himself,’ Jon explains with sighing pretence at patience.
‘I'm just joining in.’
‘You're being a helicopter.’
‘Well-!’ Martin throws his hands up. ‘Well I don't think so! Sorry for wanting to be involved in my son's life. For wanting to help him.’ Jon tries to cut in but he barrels on. ‘No I'm just helping! You don't understand, you're not even here.’
Jon says nothing. Slowly, he blinks at the wall. Martin instantly feels bad.
‘Sorry.’
Jon's eyebrows give a quick bounce of... scepticism? acceptance? Then he sighs. ‘You're right, I suppose. I’m not seeing every interaction.’
Latching on to this implied forgiveness, Martin says, ‘right.’
‘I just think...’ Jon’s smile twitches a second, but Martin recognises it as rueful, ironic. Maybe even sarcastic, which puts him on edge. He glances around at Laurie again. ‘I know you,’ Jon says, ‘so I can imagine... I mean you are very attentive.’
Martin scowls. ‘You mean clingy.’
‘I mean-’ Jon tuts- ‘you worry. And obviously you have to be around him almost all the time right now. It's probably good to have some alone time. For both of you.’
He might have a point technically, but whatever. Martin sets his chin and doesn't entertain this. ‘I don't like leaving him.’
‘But youre in the room?’ Jon says. ‘When he’s playing, you’re right there-’
‘Yes but- letting him struggle on his own like that? Not playing with him? It feels neglectful.’
It's like he’s snapped out the magic word. Jon deflates slightly. ‘Martin,’ he tuts gently. ‘You aren't neglectful.’
Martin shrugs bitterly. He does his absolute best not to be by doing exactly what Jon’s now telling him to stop, and still - another look over his shoulder - he's being it right now. Arguing with his baby alone and in earshot of the breaking home.
‘Look,’ Jon’s voice cuts through the spiral. ‘Martin look.’ With a purposeful, firmly comforting hand, Jon turns him back to face the doorway properly.
Together they watch. Laurie is playing at building with a concentrated look on his face, clapping bricks together, amused by the sound. He knocks the tower and giggles. Then starts again, this time with several larger pieces. Martin aches with pride as he does every time, and the urge to shower Laurie with the love and praise in his heart is still there, but now that the distance forces him to keep it in, he begins to see the beauty in letting the scene play out. Letting Laurie explore blocks in his own little bubble.
Martin isn't ready to admit this yet, but he subtly lets a little of his weight sink back into Jon’s chest. The arms around him don’t feel like they're holding him back.
‘That is not a neglected child,’ Jon says. ‘You're wonderful, and he knows it.’
Wordlessly, Martin turns and hugs him tight with his back to their baby. Four long, slow cycles of breath while they hold one another.
‘I'm sorry I said you weren't here,’ Martin says quietly. ‘I know it's hard for you. And I do appreciate all your research, and stuff.’
Jon offers a forgiving kiss to his temple. By the way his cheek shifts to do so, then shifts back, it’s clear he is watching Laurie over Martin's shoulder.
Not contented with his apology in the face of this love, Martin says, ‘I'll cook. If you want to watch him.’
‘Really?’ Jon asks, his shoulders full of gentle excitement. Martin loves him. Smiles when he imagines father watching son learn the ways of the world of stacking shapes.
‘Yeah,’ he says. He kisses Jon’s cheek. ‘Yeah.’
They sway in their hug a little longer, then Jon returns to the living room with his mug of lukewarm tea and sits on the sofa to enjoy the Laurie show.
With strong determination to be comfortable, Martin inhales and turns away from them, into the fridge. He's not exactly a chef at the best of times, and he’s still fairly distracted, fighting the urge to peer through to the living room, both to check and to catch the beautiful sight, but Jon pronounces dinner lovely and kisses his hand with oily lips, whilst Laurie frowns at the mess in his chubby fingers and gums at a piece of fusilli. They let him figure out the food for himself, glancing at one another with subtle laughs at his different faces. Grated cheese is more of a hit, something he’s beginning to recognise now.
After, Jon insists they leave the washing up. Angel that he is, he hefts Laurie onto his hip and brings his little body between them, holding Martin’s back with his other hand.
‘That was good, wasn't it Laurie?’ he says. He drops a kiss on his baby's head and Martin might burst. ‘Very good. I think we should watch a film now, what do you think?’
Laurie screams a high pitched happy noise, likely at the crushing sensation of the enveloping hug.
‘Yes I think,’ Martin grins. ‘Yes,’ Jon agrees. He squeezes both their sides at the same ticklish spot. ‘Spirit again?’