Work Text:
It began innocently enough.
One afternoon, during lunch, Nico placed a carefully balanced plate in front of his pup—mashed sweet potato stars, veggie bites shaped like bunnies, and his usual pudding cup with a smiley face drawn on the lid.
But George sat there. Arms crossed. Cheeks puffed. And declared, with the most heartbroken expression, “I no eat. No thank you.”
Nico blinked. “George… it’s your favorite.”
George sniffed. “No, dam. I hate it now. It's bad. And evil. Like broccoli.”
“It’s literally shaped like a bunny, sweetheart.”
“Bunny is scared. Bunny says don’t eat 'im.”
“…you talked to the food again, didn’t you?”
George nodded solemnly, sucking on his dummy.
It lasted for days. No matter what anyone tried— silly airplane spoons, decorated plates, chocolate bribes—George refused everything. Just crossed his arms. Turned his head. Clung to his bunny plush and pouted so hard his lip practically touched the floor. When asked why?
“Because I no like food anymore. Food is mean. It wants to go in my tummy and be alone. I no want it to be alone.”
No one knew what that meant. George refused to explain.
When it became too repetitive, Max tried threatening him saying, “If you don’t eat, I’m not letting you ride my back anymore.”
George shrugged, “Fine. I walk. I have legs.”
Charles offered him a shiny sticker book.
George replied, “I only want blank pages. No stickers. Stickers too happy.”
Carlos, tried offering a slice of toast with a smile drawn in jam.
George whispered like it was a secret, “He smiling 'cause he gonna die.”
One night, his tummy growled. Loudly. In the middle of storytime. So loud even Kimi who never reacts to anything paused reading and looked down at the tiny omega pup curled beside his lap.
George buried his face in Kimi’s chest and whimpered.
“My tummy sad.”
“Your tummy wants food.”
“No... no food. No eat.”
“Why?”
George peeked out, big blue eyes watery. “…if I eat, I’ll get big.”
Kimi raised a brow. “And?”
“And if I big, mama won’t carry me no more.”
Oh.
They all pieced it together.
George, overwhelmed by how fast Max was growing, how Charles got to do “big pup” stuff, how everyone kept telling him he was “getting so tall!”—had spiraled into this fear.
That if he grew up…
He’d stop being the baby.
No more cuddles. No more lap naps. No more “squish squish” moments with mama. No more being held. Just… forgotten.
So that night, Nico sat with him.
Held him in his lap like he used to when George was still in onesies with tail holes and the faintest waddle.
He fed him pudding. One slow spoonful at a time.
“You’ll always be my baby,” Nico whispered. “Even if you grow taller than me one day.”
George sniffled, cheeks round and damp. “Promise?”
“Forever. Now open up, little bunny.”
A pause.
Then a hesitant “ahh.”
First spoonful down. Then two. Then he finished the whole pudding cup and passed out in Nico’s arms, sticky-mouthed and warm.
From then on, he still had moments—days he got scared, or felt too big, or refused to eat anything green.
But there was always someone there. To hold his hand. To promise he’d always be their baby.
And if all else failed?
They let him sit in Lewis’ lap while Max spoon fed him gummy worms like a little prince.
Sometimes, being a baby had perks.