Work Text:
”i go along to be with you,
and those moon songs that you sing your babies”
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The question’s been asked before, several times. Any plans for children? Do you want kids? How many kids would you want?
And the answer is always the same, Jerry smiling dryly, a “Maybe” falling from his lips, because he doesn’t know, not really. Layne’s the one with the American dream, and Jerry’s long questioned if the American dream is a path paved for those who get lucky enough to walk it in the first place.
He likes to think one day he could have them. With who, he doesn’t know. Courtney wants them, but Courtney is the kind of woman who takes in a stray bird to mother—he doesn’t know what to think of her sometimes.
It doesn’t help he’s not entirely sure how to act around kids sometimes. Toddlers are easy; they do all the talking for you. Babies don’t talk, not in a way Jerry can understand, and when a woman plops her daughter in Jerry’s hands at a record signing, he half wonders if the whole thing is a set up.
Layne’s certainly getting along fine with the child, making faces that don’t pull a smile from the kid, because it’s a baby. She stares up at him blankly, but Layne thinks she’s adorable.
She is, there’s no denying it. Jerry smooths a hand over her hat, her bemused expression bringing a soft snort out from his throat.
Then she starts moving, and Jerry remembers why babies are difficult.
Jerry shifts, arms locking together to trap the wriggling mass on his knees. The child cracks open an eye, blinking up at him lazily. He blinks back.
“I have the sudden urge to apologize to David,” Jerry says, twisting his head when a response isn’t offered. To his slight surprise, Layne’s already met his gaze, a soft smile tugging on the corners of his mouth.
“What?” Jerry demands, skin oddly hot now.
“Nothing.” Layne’s eyes are wide, blue bright unblinking in a way that unsettles Jerry. “She’s cute.”
The baby’s head swivels, Layne reaching a finger to her tiny hand. She glances at it, the look on her face almost unimpressed.
Jerry snorts. “Yeah, she’s a real riot.”
The baby begins reaching for her mother, who takes her with a grateful smile, waving the child’s curled fist in their direction. Layne waves back, smile wide enough that Jerry feels that familiar flicker of affection unfurling in his stomach.
•
“You ever think about it?”
Jerry turns his head to meet Layne’s gaze, hair fanning out behind him, the roots slick with sweat.
Smoke rises lazily from Layne’s mouth, disappearing in rings before they hit the hotel’s popcorn ceiling. He’s got the same face as before, a softness that Jerry’s not entirely sure what to do with.
“Think about what?” Jerry asks quietly.
Layne props his chin on his hand. It’s hard to focus on anything other than his mouth, the skin bruised and pink.
“About kids. Having them,” Layne adds almost absently. He reaches up, smoothing a hand over his buzzed hair. “When this is all over.”
Jerry feels his mouth turn down into a frown. He shifts until his knees knock against Layne’s. Layne watches him.
“I don’t know,” Jerry says, fingers curling around the cigarette that hangs between Layne’s teeth. He brings it to his own mouth. “I can’t think of myself in that way.”
“What way?”
“Like,” Jerry blows a breath through his teeth, “ten years from now. You know, those bullshit questions they asked you at school? I don’t know.”
Layne hums at that, brows drawing together. Jerry thumbs the cigarette on the bedside table, careful not to spread his fingers in the ash. Layne watches with slight amusement as Jerry settles on his knees before him, letting his mouth slide over Layne’s jaw.
“All I wanna think about,” Jerry says against the skin, “is right now.” His gaze flicks up, noting the slight flush to Layne’s neck in a sort of savage satisfaction. “You good with that?”
“I suppose,” is all Layne says, though Jerry feels the words through his teeth, followed by a smile against his own mouth.
“Good.” Jerry kisses him, letting a hand drop to Layne’s knee. Layne kisses him back lazily, too nonchalant for Jerry’s liking.
“I think you’d be a good dad,” Layne says when Jerry pulls away.
Jerry doesn’t know what to do with the slight relief poking at his ribcage. He makes a face. “You think so?”
Layne hums again, pressing a kiss to the corner of Jerry’s mouth. It’s so out of character, Jerry feels his eyebrow rise.
“What? You want a white fence with me?” Jerry says, only half joking.
Layne tilts his head, those eyes raking over his face. His shoulders rise and fall in a shrug, making Jerry huff out a laugh.
“I want right now,” Layne parrots, shifting back until his head hits the pillow, smile a touch wry now. His shirt had ridden up, exposing a line of pale skin that Jerry brushes his fingers over.
Jerry’s mouth quirks. “Now I can do.”