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Upon entering their home, the first thing Ambrosius noticed was the idle calm in the living room, no Ballister or Nimona on sight. Nothing new about that, they could be out or could be taking a nap in their bedroom. When he left his things there, he didn't see them around either, but a very faint hum caught his attention.
Ambrosius brought his head out of the door sill and threw a look at the hall, in the direction of the humming, which sounded like a song. His eyes went to Baby's open bedroom door, and he tried sharpening his hearing, turning to give his right ear in the direction of the singing.
Either they were suddenly getting haunted by a ghost with a voice eerily similar to Ballister's, or both boss and sidekick were in Baby's room. He'd bet on the second option.
As he got close enough, he stopped by the door, surprised at what his eyes saw.
Because when Ambrosius had gotten home after work that day, the least he had expected to see was his pregnant husband rocking a pink-haired baby in his arms.
Not only rocking her, but also singing her a lullaby, while looking at her like she was the most precious treasure in the world.
The way in which his chest exploded in warmth couldn't be considered healthy. He held against it with a hand, clenching his fingers over his clothed chest, while staring with the softest eyes at his husband, as he was sticking out like a sore thumb with his dark clothes in the middle of Baby's pastels-colored room.
Thinking about it now, it made sense somehow. Nimona was a lot of things, why not a little baby too?
Ballister turned a bit on his heels, and Ambrosius got the full view of Nimona's face, with her chubby cheeks, and very short pink hair only on the top of her head and by the sides, mirroring in a very baby way her usual hairstyle. Most importantly, her eyes were closed and a small smile was on her face, contentedly being cradled.
Ballister halted his singing when he noticed Ambrosius by the door, staring with wide eyes and bringing the baby closer to his chest. And the very next second he smiled and relaxed his grip to carry Nimona normally again.
“You scared me,” he protested quietly, going back to stare at Nimona's widely open eyes now, startled from the previous movements.
“Sorry,” he replied quietly too, and walked closer to give his husband a brief kiss, and then looked down at the baby too.
She was swaddled in the new blanket Ballister had bought a few days back, wherein he had arrived claiming happily on his new purchases.
“Ambrosius! Look at what I bought. And on sale too.”
By the time he had finished telling the news, Ballister had gotten close enough to him at their kitchen, making a show of presenting the little fluffy onesie hanging from his fingers.
“Oh, it's cute!” he smiled, leaving the knife he was using on the cutting board and turning to give Ballister his full attention. “And looks very soft.”
“It is, and it has ears, look–”
Ambrosius had allowed himself to stare fondly while Ballister showed off the little bear-eared hoodie in the onesie, and when he proceeded to accommodate it over his belly rather casually, Ambrosius felt his heart flip in delight. Ballister mused out loud that given how small it was, they could dress Baby in the onesie as soon as he was out.
Even with the display that he'd wish to keep looking at forever, of his husband being excited about getting new clothes for their baby– he had to remind Ballister of the reason for why he and Nimona had gone out in the first place.
“Balli, did you bring the parsley?”
He already knew the answer. And the wide eyes and surprised gasp from Ballister confirmed it.
“Shit– I forgot,” he claimed, throwing a guilty look at the clothes over his belly. Then, with some good ol’ big wet-looking eyes directed at him, “I'm sorry, Ambrosius.”
Ambrosius smiled, “It's fine, don’t worry. It’s on Baby.”
Ballister smiled sheepishly and looked back to the clothes, accommodating them again. “Okay, it’s on Baby.”
It really was. It was no one's fault other than Baby's.
Because yeah, all three of them usually blamed him when anything happened, even if it wasn't directly his fault.
Be it Ballister weeping at something seemingly silly that embarrassed him later on when he calmed down, or Ambrosius having the insane urge to keep their apartment spotless, or Nimona getting stuck to Ballister’s side almost 24/7, sometimes (often) getting on his nerves and ruining his mood.
Most of the time their unborn child had close to no business in it, but it was fun to place the blame on him, as if he truly did all of that on purpose.
And they blamed Baby too for Ballister's pregnancy brain, wherein he kept forgetting things. Usually whatever he forgot was nothing too important, like the parsley. But it had been the main reason that Ambrosius had nudged Nimona to go with him (and they hadn't needed any more convincing, already out the door and hurrying Ballister to waddle faster so they could go out), to remind him of what he had been asked for.
But he shouldn't have put too much trust in them, especially by how easily distracted they could be.
“Look, Goldie!” barreled Nimona into the kitchen, almost knocking against Ballister. She held a small, soft looking blanket in her hands, right in front of her head and covering her view. “Boss got this blanket. It has me on it!”
She let go of one corner, finally allowing Ambrosius to see her face as she pointed at one of the little pink dragons on the pattern, with a huge grin on her face, showing her sharp teeth in delight.
And now that same blanket was wrapped around her body, probably tucking her limbs close to herself.
“We're practicing! Boss already almost dropped me twice.”
Ambrosius got a bit caught off-guard by Nimona's voice coming from a little baby, squishy looking and small and with the cutest rosy cheeks–
Okay, she was adorable as a baby and Ambrosius and Ballister were about to have one, he could inwardly coo over this new form she took without feeling ashamed of his heart melting each time he looked at her face. He was allowed. Babies were cute, and Nimona was no exception.
“Shh.” Ballister manually (and very gently) closed Nimona's eyes again. “Go back to sleep. He doesn't need to know that.”
Ambrosius snickered and Ballister looked up at him in amusement. Then he maneuvered Nimona in his arms towards his hands, to offer her up as if she were a puppy instead of a fragile baby. Her eyes were wide open again and smiling in her usual laid-off demeanor. Very weird for a baby.
And although there was nothing physically fragile in Nimona, and several helpful parenting videos stipulated that newborns weren't nearly as fragile as they looked either– Ambrosius couldn't help but worry.
“Balli,” he chided. “Hold her properly, you'll drop her.”
“Ah, see, Boss? You gotta truly get into the role, not just for pretends,” lectured Nimona while being passed from one's hands to the other's arms.
Ambrosius wasn't getting into any roles. Or maybe he was, into the role of a father wanting to keep his baby safe. Not that the girl needed to know that, he doubted that Nimona would appreciate his parental worry directed at her.
Ballister's though? Sure she would.
More than once Ambrosius had looked at those two interacting and idly thought that they were very much like a maybe too young father and his teenage daughter.
He cradled her head carefully, holding her as if she had just been born, instead of being a thousand something year old shapeshifter pretending to be a baby.
“Okay, so like this…” he mumbled to himself, trying to remember the several videos he and Ballister had watched, trying to prepare for when they'd have Baby in their arms.
Ballister hummed in thought, “I think your hold on them is alright, but your posture…”
“What about my posture?”
His husband gestured to his body, inclined to the right as it was. Ambrosius tried to straighten himself, while keeping a good grip on Nimona. That was harder than he thought.
“You'll drop me!” Nimona screeched suddenly, startling Ambrosius and almost making him drop her for real.
“Damn it, you little shit!” he yelped with his heart in his throat while she cackled.
Ballister let out a cackle too, but sobered up quickly.
“Is that how you'll treat Baby?” he teased with a raised eyebrow, placing his hands by his hips.
“No… he wouldn't scream at me like that,” muttered Ambrosius, his parental worry briefly forgotten and now placing Nimona under his arm like a basketball as she protested. He turned his attention towards Ballister's belly, leaning down as his husband smiled down at him. “Right, Baby? No, you wouldn't, because you'll be a sweetheart, unlike this girl.”
“He’ll scream worse, like babies do!” claimed Nimona from under his arm. They wiggled a bit. “Hey, I can't get out. Boss, you swaddled me too good.”
“Oh,” muttered Ambrosius, now holding her up in his hands like Ballister had before, like a swaddled puppy.
“On a scale of one to ten, how too good were you swaddled?” inquired Ballister. “And since we're at it, how much are we supposed to swaddle Baby in a blanket?”
“How am I supposed to know?” complained Nimona. Then, “Eight, very swaddled.”
Ballister held his chin in thought. “Okay, okay… will keep that in mind.”
Ambrosius held Nimona properly while both talked. He looked around, deciding to bring Nimona to Baby's crib, the same crib that he had been struggling to build a few weeks back. He gingerly placed Nimona there and untucked the eight-degree too good swaddled blanket from around her, freeing her body. And then he noticed that she was wearing a pink onesie underneath, with soft yellow mittens on her hands.
Good Gl–, it was adorable.
“Don't make that face, Goldie,” she protested while raising her tiny hands towards her head. Her legs scrunched up, not unlike a frog, and Ambrosius melted a little bit more. “Stop.”
Ballister approached and Ambrosius threw him a soft look, before returning his gaze to Nimona. The smile on his face refused to go down. Ballister rested his head on Ambrosius' shoulder, while hugging against him, and he'd take the guess that he was smiling too.
“You two look so dumb right now,” she commented, holding her little feet with her tiny mittened hands. “How are you supposed to take care of Baby when you're turning into goo all the time?”
“We can multitask,” his husband answered simply.
Nimona scoffed and rolled towards her tummy.
“Of course not, look at you!”
Nimona and Ballister kept arguing whether or not they would melt each time they looked at their baby. Ambrosius guessed that if he was as adorable as Nimona currently was, it was very likely that yeah, at least he'd turn to goo every single time.
“And you, Goldie, what's going on with you?” she demanded.
“You're such a cute baby,” he said, without thinking.
Before he could be ashamed of his statement, Ballister talked, “I know! Look at her little cheeks, they're all pink!”
Ambrosius smiled.
“And her hair, she barely has any. She's so bald,” he claimed, not unkindly, but Nimona frowned up at him with a pout.
“It’s so cute. Maybe Baby will be bald too like you were,” commented Ballister while snickering.
And he was referencing the embarrassingly several baby pictures his mothers have shown Ballister when they started visiting often. It had been a nudge from his moms for them to have children, but both had simply ignored their unsubtle hints at the time.
“Maybe,” conceded Ambrosius with a shrug. Then he pointed at Nimona. “Did you look at the mittens, though? Their hands look like little paws,” he pointed out while leaning away from Ballister's hug to lean closer to Nimona, holding one of said hands, as the baby rolled back to their back.
For all Nimona claimed that they were stupidly gooey over her, and that Ambrosius could go straight to hell for all she cared, she opened her tiny hand and held against one of his fingers, tightly. Just like an actual baby would.
“What the fuck,” he muttered, as if painfully struck by the act.
“Ugh, if you'll get like that, then shoo away, Goldie.”
“No please, it's adorable,” he hurried to say.
Ballister leaned against the crib rails. “Wait until you see her little fingers.”
Ambrosius' head snapped to look at him with wide eyes. “Her fingers?”
His husband nodded, “Yup, all five of them on her two hands. Counted them all.”
Ambrosius turned back to look at Nimona pleadingly, but she was already shaking her head.
“Nuh-huh, man, this is what you get for having a job. You miss the greatest moments in the baby's life.” Ambrosius pouted and looked down, defeatedly. Nimona muttered, “Like counting the fingers, for some reason… Parents are so weird.”
“It's because the hand is so small and yet has all the fingers, which are just so, so tiny,” explained Ballister while bringing both of his indexes and thumbs together to simulate just how small.
“Still weird,” she mumbled. She had let go of Ambrosius' finger and was now stretching and yawning. And she snapped her mouth shut at Ambrosius’ and Ballister's cooing. “No way. That too?”
“Nimona, you could be barfing all over the crib and we'd be amazed anyways,” stated Ballister, deadpan.
Ambrosius nodded solemnly, “If a baby does it, it's cute. Right?” he asked for confirmation on his husband, who nodded solemnly too.
"Right."
Nimona hummed and simply laid there while both men went back to watch with stars and love in their eyes some more.
Then, “Can I hold you again?”
“No, Goldie. Baby will be out soon, you wait for him.”
“Aw.”
“Can I hold you again?”
“Sure, Boss!” she raised her arms up at him, while Ballister smiled and tried to lean down to pick her back up. Ambrosius crossed his arms resentfully.
But Ballister stopped when his belly got in the way. He looked down at it.
“Oh, I can't– Wait, let me…” he tried again, attempting to stretch his arms enough to properly grab her. “No, I can't.”
Ballister threw a look at Ambrosius, who was about to tell him that he could lower the crib rails to lean and pick Nimona up. But then his husband winked an eye, away from Nimona's view, and Ambrosius' eyes widened in understanding.
He smiled and uncrossed his arms, accommodating his sleeves by his elbows, “Don't worry, dear husband of mine, I'll help you pick our baby up.”
“Why, thank you, dear,” his dear husband answered, stepping back and out of the way.
“What do you mean our baby?” complained Nimona.
“Shh, it's okay, your favorite father is here,” he leaned to pick her up and smiled delightedly at having the now small, unswaddled form held in his arms.
Her little limbs tucked close to herself and against all her words, she snuggled closer to his chest. He supported her back with a hand, her head resting on his forearm, and his free hand gently held her head, his thumb caressing the very short and soft strands of pink hair.
“You're doing much better now,” commented Ballister gently.
“Hey, I am,” he realized in glee, looking up at his husband and sharing a happy smile with him.
He looked down at the baby again, and when she pulled out her tongue at him with a frown, he returned it, feigning a scowl too. Then he started rocking her from side to side. “We should do this more often, holding babies is so nice.”
“I mean– we will do this more often,” Ballister reminded him, gesturing to their unborn baby with a raised eyebrow.
“Oh, right,” Ambrosius muttered with a delighted smile, and then his attention went back to Nimona, who was snickering at him. His smile dropped. “Shut it.”
"Boss, I don't like this guy, can you hold me instead?" she requested, turning to look at Ballister.
Ambrosius quickly turned his body to hide her from view, even if the other didn't even attempt to move from his place, just staring amusedly.
"No way, he held you long enough, it's my turn."
Nimona mocked his words using one single vowel, and then she was no longer a baby but a teenager on his arms. He barely managed to keep holding her instead of dropping her weight to the floor. She kicked her way out of his arms though, planting their feet on the floor and walking the few steps in Ballister's direction, throwing one single nasty look at Ambrosius. His husband extended his arms at her, and she climbed in, turning into a baby on the way there.
Ambrosius huffed offendedly, "C'mon!"
Ballister rocked the baby in his arms, "Don't worry, Ambrosius, I bet Baby wouldn't treat you this way," he mocked.
He crossed his arms once again in resentment, "He better doesn't, and I better be his favorite."
His husband walked closer and placed a kiss over his pout, and Ambrosius couldn't help the immediate smile tugging at his lips.
"He'll love you," he reassured.
"Unlike Nimona," supplied Nimona.
"Unlike Nimona," nodded Ballister, reasonably.
Ambrosius rolled his eyes, now with an exasperated smile, "Unlike Nimona."