Work Text:
Double Babysitter
The heat of the Reach district enveloped him like a damp, oven-hot blanket as he stepped out of the hired car. His eye cast over the repairs Robb had made to his and Margaery’s shabby three-story house. New paint on the trim. Replaced the attic window. Kid’s toys were strewn across the yard. An elaborate design drawn in sidewalk chalk adorned the drive and the pathway. Cicadas hummed in the dying light. Far above, a bat fluttered by. Jon took a restoring breath, smelling the rich perfume of the poinciana tree in the backyard. Dad had one in the backyard growing up, so the smell always reminded him of home. Part of him wished for a cigarette. Margaery absolutely forbade them around the twins. Worth it, though. The kids were great.
Grinning, Jon rang the bell and then crept soft-footed to crouch behind a chair in the foyer. A thunder of running feet on the wood floors and three-year-old Lorrie sprinted for the door shrieking: “Uncle Jon! Uncle Jon! There you are Un--” Lorrie threw open the door.
“Hey, where did he--”
Jon pounced, throwing Lorrie upside down over his shoulder and tickling his tummy. Lorrie’s delighted screeching needled his ears, but Jon loved it. Jon held Lorrie by the ankles, his mop of brown hair obscuring his face.
“How’s it hanging, Robbie?” Jon asked. Footsteps behind him. Jon met Robb’s eye, still beaming. Margaery followed with the older twin, Robbie.
“I’m Loras! He’s Robbie!” Lorrie said, pointing to his brother huddled against his mum’s leg.
“Oh, right. ‘Cause she’s got red hair.”
“I’m a boy!” Robbie insisted, stomping his foot. Jon shared a commiserating grimace with Lorrie, who had swung up his arm and heaved his body weight up, limber as a monkey.
“Are you going to put us to bed, Uncle Jon?” Lorrie asked, amber-brown eyes shining with excitement. Jon thanked the gods that Robbie and Lorrie were not identical. Both were lanky for their age, with curly hair. Robbie had Robb’s coloring. Auburn hair, freckles. Though little Robbie’s eyes were Stark grey instead of Tully blue. Lorrie favored his mum. Brown hair, brown eyes, rosy cheeks.
“Yep,” Jon replied.
“Hooray!” Lorrie shouted.
“Not hooray,” Robbie said, twisting his fingers together.
“Robbie isn’t keen on babysitter putdowns, Jon,” Margaery said gently.
“No worries, kid. This will be fun!” Jon said, infusing as much enthusiasm as he could into his voice. It was funny, most of his friends were shocked that he was so close with his brothers’ kids. At work and in his social life, he was a serious person. Serious to the point of dourness, impatient, short-fused, and emotionally distant (so his former girlfriends complained). The simple answer was that with kids, he could let himself relax. Have fun. Be silly. It was really freeing.
The doorbell dinged again. Margaery opened it. Robbie sucked in a giddy breath.
“Dany!” he squealed, launching himself across the doorjamb. Lorrie too, abandoned Jon to hug the woman.
“Boys!” Dany’s said, catching them both in a hug. Dany blinked at Jon, her thick eyebrows creasing. Jon had to admit, the expression was adorable.
“Dany is Robbie’s fairy godmother,” Lorrie explained with a toddler’s air of learned condescension.
“Dany, have you met Robb’s brother Jon before?” Margaery asked. Dany’s gaze flicked over him. Gods, were her eyes purple?
“I think so. Didn’t you jump into the pool at the wedding?” Dany asked.
“Probably.” He shrugged.
That jogged his memory. Dany was Margaery’s college roommate. What was she again? An artist? A photographer?
“Jon phoned and said he could babysit. You must not have got my message,” Margaery said with a frown. Dany checked her phone.
“No, I didn’t get it. It’s fine. I’ll just go.”
“No!” Lorrie said, clinging to her leg, “Both babysit.”
“No, I couldn’t. Unless--” Dany said with a questioning glance in his direction.
“Fine by me,” Jon said.
A flurry of activity ensued as Margaery finished dressing. Robb just had to show him the new deck he’d laid, with plans to add a firepit later in the summer. Jon made appropriate noises of appreciation, half of his attention turned to the kids and their ‘fairy godmother.’ She looked fey, for sure. That platinum blond hair piled in a messy bun on top of her head. The ribbed yellow tank top and cutoff jean shorts showing off a lot of fine-grained tanned skin. No bra either. Fuck. And purple eyes? Who had purple eyes?
Margaery was well-prepared. The kids had already eaten dinner. All Jon and Dany had to do was play, bath, and bed. Simple. Eventually, Robb and Margaery were out the door. Lorrie was bouncing with excitement, while Robbie was obviously wary. Jon swiveled a kitchen chair backwards and straddled it, resting his chin on the back.
“Now Robbie, tell me why you’re not keen on babysitter putdowns,” Jon asked.
“I’m just not,” Robbie said, fidgeting with his hair, “I had one before and I didn’t like it. It’s too different.”
“Well, your fairy godmother and I will make this exactly like a Mum-and-Dad-putdown,” Jon promised. He met Dany’s unsettlingly bright gaze and saw a twinkle of humor.
“I don’t know you as well as I know Mum and Dad,” Robbie pointed out.
“Oh good point. Well, maybe you just need to get to know us better,” Jon said, with a glance at Dany. A questioning sort. A are-you-going-to-back-me-up-or-are-we-going-to-have-a-problem sort of look. Dany gave him a subtle nod.
“I know! Let’s play Twenty Questions,” Dany said in a bright voice. Jon smiled. Solidarity between babysitters was sacred.
“Twenty what?” Lorrie asked, his little nose screwing up in confusion.
“A game where you ask questions about us. And we answer them.” Robbie’s grey eyes were surprisingly solemn, but the temptation of a game was too great to resist. A smile threatened to break out any second.
“Me first,” Jon volunteered.
Robbie and Lorrie settled cross-legged on kiwi rug on the kitchen floor. An adorable mix of innocent, curious, and relentless. His heart squeezed a little at the sight of them. One of those moments every caregiver had for a child. A desire to make them smile, a desire to protect. A holy worry. Dany took a seat on one of the kitchen stools, swinging her feet. How cute.
“Why don’t you have a wife?”
Gods, Robbie was heavy-hitter. What was uncle-acceptable for relationship status? His last girlfriend Val had thrown a hair dryer at his head when he said they should break up.
“Well how do you know I don’t?” he countered, proud of himself for the dodge. Robbie had his dad’s tenacity.
“Do you have a wife?”
“Well, no,” Jon said, feeling heat prickle in his cheeks. What would the perfect fairy godmother think about that?
“Then why don’t you have a wife?” Robbie asked, dogged.
“Her turn!” Jon said, almost gasping in relief. Robbie was relentless. He could be a lawyer like his mama when he grew up.
“How many friends do you have?” Lorrie asked Dany. Her shoulders rounded.
“Uh, three?” she said tentatively.
“That’s not many,” Lorrie said.
“How come you only got three friends?” Robbie asked.
“Well, um . . . back to him?” she said with a crooked smile. Fuck, she really was gorgeous.
“How come we only see you at Christmas?” Robbie asked. Jon relaxed a little. Finally, an easy one.
“’Cause I work on a dragonglass rig.” There was pride in his voice. He loved his work as an engineer. Dragonglass was the cornerstone of the clean energy market as the basis of all heavy-use rechargeable batteries. Mining it was serious and time-consuming business.
“Is that why you don’t got a wife?” Lorrie wondered, scratching the inside of his thigh with his long toes.
“Well, maybe.”
“What’s a dragonglass rig?” Twenty Questions? More like an interrogation by a Free Folk gang, thumb-screws and all!
“Why is your hair so pretty?” Robbie asked.
“Almond milk shampoo!” they said at once. Jon shared a delighted glance with her. That hair really was gorgeous. Jon fancied he could get a whiff of her hair sitting so close.
“Do you want to have children?” Lorrie asked.
This question seemed to be posited at the both of them. The tenuous thread of the game, already unraveling.
“Yes,” they said at once. Gods, was this a double babysitting gig? It could almost be a blind date hosted by the most obnoxious matchmaker ever.
“Will Drogo be the daddy?” Robbie said, brightening with interest.
Dany let out half a gasp, wincing. Kids. They had unerring radar for subjects adults wanted to avoid.
“Um, well, Drogo and I aren’t friends anymore.”
An ex, for sure.
“Who’s Drogo?” Jon asked.
“No one. Next question,” Dany said briskly. Called it.
“Drogo’s her true love,” Robbie explained.
“Not any more!” Dany broke in.
“But true love is forever!” Robbie argued.
“Is true love not forever?” Lorrie asked querulously. Now Lorrie was frowning, limpid brown eyes starting to shimmer with confused tears. Poor little guy. He was so sensitive.
“It is. Well, I thought it was.” There was real pain embroidering her voice. Jon suddenly wished he knew where this ‘Drogo’ lived so he could teach him a lesson in manners. It’s ok Partner, I got you, Jon thought.
“Let’s play in the backyard!” he suggested.
“Hooray!”
Predictably, there was some arguing and whinging about what they were going to play in the backyard. Jon admired the play of yellow-white fairy lights strung against the dark bark and red leaves of the poinciana tree. The rich smell of the blossoms, fresh cut grass and the sharper tang of water drenched the purple-hued evening. It really was nice. Jon glanced over his shoulder. Dany seemed to have regained her composure. Silhouetted against the house, kissed with gold light, she stole his breath.
“I want to play the same games as Mum and Dad,” Robbie said.
“You don’t need the same games, Robbie! You need . . . torch mouse!” Dany said, brandishing a mini flashlight from her keychain.
‘Torch mouse’ was a big hit. Robbie and Lorrie took turns aiming the small flashlight at the ground. Jon and Dany as cats leapt at the light, trying to catch ‘the mouse.’ They leapt over each other. Wrestling to grab the elusive light. Running and sweating and shrieking like hellions. Lorrie aimed the light at Jon’s stomach. Oh no—A thud of impact as Dany tackled him. Breath wheezed out of him. Despite the shock of a perfect rugby tackle from a girl who barely cleared five feet in height, Jon did get to relish a quick moment of that hot little body pressed against his. He was embarrassed by how much he liked it. The accidental elbow in the gut had only charmed him.
Bath went more or less smoothly. As did the donning of jammies, the brushing of teeth, the combing of hair.
“Torch mouse was fun,” Robbie said, after brushing his teeth, “but I don’t want to do anything else different, please.”
Jon made a split-second decision. He grabbed Robbie round the middle and hoisted him upside down until his feet rested on the ceiling.
“How about this?” he grunted, “What do you think?”
“This is weird!”
“Yeah, but then before you know it, you get used to it!”
Robbie giggled, then hunched down by the recessed light fixture, holding out his hands as if warming them over a fire.
“Do me!” Lorrie demanded, vibrating with excitement as only young children can. A frown puckered Dany’s brow for an instant, then smoothed into a look of unbridled determination.
“Ok. I’ll give it a go,” Dany said and heaved Lorrie up. She was so tiny, even with her trembling arms fully extended, Lorrie could only brush his toes against the ‘campsite.’
“Hello Upside -down -Lorrie! Come sit by the campfire!” Robbie said.
“Lorrie, honey. You’ve . . . gotten . . . heavy!” she said through gritted teeth. That sidelong glance was eloquent with her desire to best him. A competitive streak too? Gods, was she the perfect woman? Jon waited, choosing his moment. Her arms shimmied, teeth grit in a rictus of strain—she met his eye. Jon winked.
It worked. She lost her balance. She and Lorrie tumbled down. (No serious injuries, thank the gods. Margaery still hadn’t forgiven him for the Croissant Incident when the kids were two).
From the floor, Dany said breathlessly: “How about a story?”
Perfect segue, Partner! They shepherded the kids into the bedroom and their prospective beds. Another battle to decide the story before the fairy godmother pulled rank and chose a fairy tale. It started with doing voices and gestures. By the time they reached the climax of the story, Jon was pouncing on a stuffed dragon and Dany was huddled in the tiny reading loft pretending to be the princess.
“Then the brave knight took out the dragon with a big prince-punch! He climbed the castle tower and said: ‘Princess, I have come to rescue you! Come to my castle and we shall marry!’” Jon said, falling to one knee with a theatrical wave of his hand. Both boys cheered.
“And the Princess replied: ‘No thanks.’”
“What?” Jon said, incredulous.
“She didn’t like the look of him,” Dany said, lips compressed to hide a smile. The kids were in stitches. Lorrie did his little snorting laugh that was guaranteed to make Jon laugh. Through the wheezing laughter, Jon managed a hint of affront: “Why not?”
“Well, his hair was a bit messy. And he was almost too muscly, isn’t that right, boys?” Dany said, violet eyes dancing. Jon puffed up. Too muscly. He checked the urge to flex and preen. Jon leaned against the ladder and peered up at her.
“Hang on, I prince-punch the dragon, then we go to my castle and get married. That’s business!”
Dany rolled her eyes, tossing her silver head.
“Hey I didn’t ask to be rescued!” she said. Gods, she was so cute. That hint of challenge, competitiveness. A beguiling recipe.
“So you’d rather stay here with a smelly dragon?” he said, squinting at her. Dany shrugged, hugging the black dragon plushie.
“I’ve gotten used to him,” she said. Challenge extended . . .
“Ok,” he shrugged, flexing his ‘muscly’ stomach, “I’ll wake him up.”
“Wait, no.” Hah! Called your bluff, Partner!
“Yeah, didn’t think so!”
Robbie and Lorrie laughed, eyes ping-ponging between the two of them.
“Ugh, princes are all the same she thought,” she said, rolling her eyes. Despite the jesting tone, Jon remembered how Robbie asked about ‘Drogo,’ and winced. Jon smoothed his expression into his most innocent, most sincere.
“No, we’re not, milady. There’s good princes and bad princes,” he said with utter confidence. Dany folded her arms under her breasts. Jon’s goodness was derailed a bit glancing at her soft, sweet tits.
“Which one was this prince?” she asked with a knowing glance. Jon winked at her, though his was more a focused blink.
“He’s good!” Jon insisted, glancing at Robbie and Lorrie for support. Lorrie gave him an emphatic thumbs up.
“We’ll see!” Dany said. Jon slid an arm around her shoulders and together they took a bow, signaling the end of the story.
They wrestled the kiddos into bed. It took some doing. Finally, Dany had to use her ‘fairy godmother’ voice to get Robbie to deign to agree. Lorrie was an easier mark. Jon tucked the astronaut blankie tighter around him.
“Goodnight, Lorrie. Did you have a good--” A soft snore answered him. Jon smiled and pressed a kiss to his wild brown curls. Jon joined Dany at Robbie’s bedside. Little Robbie’s brow was puckered in a frown.
“Dany, you won’t watch TV, will you?” he asked in that childish treble that snagged your heart. Jon glanced at Dany. Clearly confused, she still agreed.
“No, we don’t have to,” she promised. Something clicked in Jon’s head.
“Oh, was your last putdown Aunt Catelyn?” he asked. That made sense. Aunt Catelyn loved true crime and was always watching shows and documentaries.
“She was watching something scary,” Robbie said.
“That’s why you don’t like babysitter putdowns!” Dany said. Robbie nodded. Jon made a mental note to have a chat with Aunt Catelyn. She would be horrified that she scared Robbie. Jon laid a gentle hand on Dany’s shoulder. The strap of her tank top was thin, her skin petal soft. He rubbed his thumb against her skin, felt a little shudder.
“Look, you just had a bad one, buddy. This will be better,” Jon said.
“We promise,” Dany echoed.
Dany hunkered down on the floor beside Robbie’s bed to hold his little hand until he slipped into sleep. Jon stuffed the dragon plushie under his head in a makeshift pillow. A multicolored nightlight rotated, spangling constellations across the ceiling. Jon watched the patterns, listening to the soft flow of Dany’s breathing. Moonlight spilled in from a high window, washing her in pale light. Jon’s heart crept up into his throat. So damned pretty. It didn’t take long for Dany to shift.
“I think he’s asleep,” she whispered, the puff of her breath blooming warm against his cheek.
“Ok,” Jon said.
The two of them crept out onto the back porch. With their vow to Robbie not to watch TV, there was little else to do but talk. Jon couldn’t be happier to play second fiddle on babysitter duty.