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Quincy always knew he wanted to be a father. When he looked at the woman he loved, he saw parenthood in their future. They’d talked about it at length, alongside their conversations about marriage… Willow needed some time to decide she was truly ready for those things, but Quincy was more than happy to wait.
In the meantime, ‘Uncle Quincy’ had a nice ring to it.
Zaro’s daughter, Ruby, took a while to get the hang of his name. She’d been slow to talk in general, and they suspected early on that she had some problems with her hearing. But she seemed fond of the ‘Qu’ sound, and after a few years of practice, it became her favorite thing to say.
“Uncle Quincy!”
Quincy smiled at the sound— she was getting better and better at speaking clearly, but honestly, he could understand her regardless. He looked over his shoulder to see her running towards him, and dropped his fishing net to catch her just as she stumbled into him.
“Hey, Ruby,” he greeted, crouching down to her height. “Remember what your dad said about running near the lake?”
“Yuh.” Ruby grinned. “But I won’t fall in, ‘cause… you’re here to protect me!”
“Sure. But you should still be careful.” Quincy scooped Ruby up off the ground; it was getting a little harder now that she was five, but Quincy could manage. “Where is your dad?”
“Oh! He wanted help.” Ruby pointed towards the village. “Mum’s tired, so he’s making breakfast. But he said he’s not good at it, and that you are.” She paused. “Also, he said not to tell you that part.”
Quincy snickered. “That’s okay. I don’t think it’s a secret.”
He walked Ruby back to her house, greeting those he saw along the way. He could smell food burning from outside, but he thought it best not to comment as he let Ruby down.
“Go see if your mom needs anything, okay?” he said. “I’ll handle breakfast.”
“Okay!” Ruby giggled as she led Quincy inside, then breezed past the kitchen to her parents’ room.
As expected, the kitchen was a mess. Zaro had all the windows open, likely to let out the smoke from the burnt eggs on the stove. He didn’t say anything at first, not even looking at Quincy as he tried to scrape them out of the pan.
“I’m sure Charlie appreciates the effort,” Quincy remarked. “The smoke probably isn’t good for her, though.”
“That’s why I opened the windows.” Zaro huffed. “Can you help? I’m starving.”
“Sure. You have more eggs?”
He didn’t see a point in giving Zaro a hard time— a little teasing here and there, sure, but nothing more. Between his usual duties to the village, raising a five-year-old, and caring for a very pregnant partner, Quincy could understand why he’d be a little stressed.
They worked in silence at first, Zaro cleaning up his mess and Quincy preparing something much more edible than Zaro’s attempts. He mixed in some vegetables and spices, too, easy when he knew Zaro’s kitchen as well as his own.
Once Zaro took his pan to the sink to start scrubbing, he spoke up.
“Do you think we can manage another kid?”
Quincy turned his head away from the stove, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t it… a little early to think about—”
“I mean, the baby,” Zaro clarified. “The second one. Do you think we can handle it?”
Oh. Made a lot more sense than Zaro asking if they should try for a third immediately after the second. “I mean… Ruby seems happy. I think you’re doing fine.”
Zaro sighed and looked around them, probably making sure the first child wasn’t around to listen. “I just… we didn’t really plan for this, I guess,” he said. “We wanted to wait until she was a little older. It’s already a lot.”
Quincy frowned. Eight months, and he hadn’t heard a word of doubt from either of them. “Charlie seems excited.”
“She is— we both are. It’s just…” Zaro shook his head. “I dunno. You probably think I’m an idiot for… not being that grateful. I feel like a dick for complaining in the first place.”
Quincy took a deep breath as he flipped the omelet in the pan. He had a feeling it would come back to this, one way or another. “My problems aren’t your fault.”
Zaro crossed his arms. “They’re not. But… it doesn’t seem fair.”
“It’s not fair. But it’s reality.”
It felt… bad. All this time, Quincy had been suppressing feelings of jealousy, thoughts of ‘they didn’t even have to try’. He didn’t talk about it, not even with Willow; although, he was sure she felt something similar.
“I’m sorry,” Zaro said, interrupting Quincy’s thoughts. “Not for… I mean, I shouldn’t have made it about you guys. That’s your own business.”
Quincy nodded slowly. It was rare that they had any sort of tension between them, any hurtful things said. If they disagreed on something, they could usually brush it off and move on. But now, digging something up that had been buried for a while… it didn’t seem so easy.
“I know it’s… not the same,” Zaro continued. “But you know how important you are to Ruby, right? You’re like another father to her.”
Quietly, Quincy plated an omelet before starting on a second.
“I’m serious. You’ve always been my family. So you’re her family, too.”
It seemed obvious; she called him Uncle Quincy, after all. He’d been around for all the milestones, the highs and lows of her life so far. But when Zaro put it like that, it seemed… more significant.
“I care about her like she’s my own.”
He always had, from the moment he found out Zaro was going to have a child at all. But it seemed selfish to feel a sense of ownership over someone else’s kid, no matter how prominent he was in her life.
“Good,” Zaro answered. “I think she feels the same.”
Quincy felt a particular warmth in his chest as the two of them continued working in silence. By the end of it, he had three omelets— one completely plain, as Ruby was very particular about what she ate. He’d briefly considered making one for himself, but Willow would be home soon, and they’d planned on cooking together.
“Thanks for the rescue,” Zaro said with a sheepish laugh as he set up a tray to take to his room. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
“What are you so worried about, then?”
Zaro blinked. “Huh?”
“Maybe you can’t handle another kid all on your own, but… it’s not just you two,” Quincy said. “You have me. Willow. The rest of the village. You’re not alone in this.”
Zaro glanced at his closed bedroom door, and after a moment, his shoulders relaxed. “Yeah… yeah. You’re right.” Slowly but surely, a smile crossed his face. “Thanks. I love you, man.”
Quincy smiled, too— small, but undeniably present. “Love you, too.”
They heard Zaro’s name, muffled behind the bedroom door.
“Go take care of the rest of your family,” Quincy said with a chuckle. “They’ve waited long enough.”