Chapter Text
The door was mocking him. Yes, mocking. "Go on, knock," it said, "Knock, and face your past."
It had taken Erik several days to work up the courage to come here, and it wasn't hard to tell that he was still nervous. Not that he didn't have a reason to be nervous, of course; It was entirely possible that he wouldn't be met with a positive response once he made his intentions clear. But he wasn't about to turn back now.
He raised a hesitant fist, not noticing that he was holding his breath, and knocked on the door.
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Peter happily played with his toy xylophone, sitting on the floor of his basement bedroom while clad in only a t-shirt and a diaper. He smiled brightly as he pressed down on the keys one by one. He was home alone today, and to Peter, there was no better way to spend a day by one's self than by being a baby. This was something he'd loved doing since he was thirteen, and he did it as often as he could. He possessed a fairly large assortment of baby items, some of which he'd had since his early childhood, like his special pacifier (which he called his binky), and his stuffed cheetah, Spot.
After a few minutes, he realized the front of his diaper was warm and wet. He hadn't noticed when he'd actually wet himself, but that wasn't at all uncommon.
He crawled over to an open package of disposable diapers, and started to pull one out, but then heard a knock at the front door. "Who could that be?" he wondered. His mother had told him not to answer the door for strangers. But wait; What if it was a Girlscout selling cookies? Peter liked cookies (of course, Peter liked nearly every kind of food there was, but that's beside the point).
Hoping there would be Thin Mints in his immediate future, he swiftly put his jeans on, and ran upstairs. However, as he got closer to the door, he saw that the person who'd knocked was an adult male. A Jehovah's witness, perhaps?
Peter zipped over to the door, and opened it. The words 'We're happy with our current religion, thank you', didn't get a chance to escape his lips before he looked up at the man's face, and realized who he was. "What are you doing here?"
"Hello, son," Erik said. He couldn't believe his eyes; Could this grey-haired young man possibly be the tiny baby he'd held in his arms all those years ago? "Is, um, is your mother home?"
Peter slowly shook his head, finding this a little surreal.
"Then may I come in?"
Peter hesitated momentarily before nodding, and stepping aside to allow Erik inside.
Leaving his shoes at the door, Erik walked into the livingroom, and took a seat on the couch. He then gestured for Peter to sit in the armchair across from him.
Peter reluctantly sat down, and looked at his father expectantly.
"I know I haven't been around, well, ever. And I'm sure you've heard about the...questionable things I've done on the news."
"Funny, I didn't know trying to kill the president was considered 'questionable'," Peter said coldly.
"Looking back upon that, I realize that was wrong. I was misguided, and I only wanted what was best for my people."
"Sure ya did; Just like most dictators supposedly want what's best for their people."
Erik closed his eyes for a second, and swallowed. "That's not the first time I've heard that comparison. Son, all I want is to spend time with you; I want to make up for all the years I missed."
"And weirdly, I have a hard time believing that. How do I know you don't just wanna use me for some sort of comic bookish take-over-the-world plot?"
"Because even if you cannot see it, I do care about you."
"Yeah, I've heard that one before," Peter scoffed.
"Son, please," Erik said, looking somewhat hurt, "I really want us to be closer.. I love you.."
Peter narrowed his eyes. "Prove it."
"I will. I'll do anything you want. Just tell me."
"Anything I want?" Peter asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Anything."
A mischievous grin formed on Peter's face. "Okay." The boy zoomed down to the basement, and put together a box of his baby things which he then brought upstairs and set down on the floor.
"You wanna be my dad? Alright; Here's your chance." Peter then handed Erik a diaper, then proceeded to lie on the floor with his hands behind his head.
"What?!" Erik spat, looking shocked. "You can't be serious! I mean, how old are you now?"
"Seventeen," Peter answered flatly.
"Mein gott, you are too old for these," Erik said, setting the diaper aside.
Peter scowled. How dare someone tell him he was too old for something! "For your information, old man, I happen to need them. And I'm dead serious."
"But, I.. There has to be something else I can do," Erik said. "Maybe I can take you to the park, and we can play catch?"
"I'm sorry, I think I misheard you; I thought you said you'd do anything I wanted. This is what I want. If you take care of me like a baby for a whole day, that'll prove to me that you care."
Erik picked up the diaper again, and looked at it for a moment before sighing. If this was what he had to do, so be it. "Alright," he said, kneeling on the floor. "Just don't kick me with those quick legs of yours."
Peter smirked. "I won't, Daddy dearest."
Erik cringed. "Just call me Dad, or Papa," he said, getting out the changing supplies. He then turned to face Peter. "Take it easy on me, please."
Peter nodded.
After unbuttoning and unzipping the boy's pants, Erik set them aside, and lifted Peter up by the ankles before placing the new diaper underneath his bottom. He then hesitantly untaped the old one, afraid of what he might find. "Have you, um, used this one yet?"
"Yeah. But don't worry; I try not to mess them," Peter said, as if this were a perfectly normal topic of conversation.
"That's...good, I suppose," Erik said as he finally mustered up enough courage to open the used diaper. He then proceeded to get the wipes, rash cream and powder ready. "Now, don't you dare wet on me, junge."
Peter rolled his eyes. "As if I have any control over that," he grumbled to himself.
Erik sighed, and got out one of the baby wipes. He carefully spread Peter's legs apart, then began gently wiping the boy's front. "I'm sorry if this tickles," he said softly.
"That's okay," Peter responded, trying to suppress a giggle. He was more ticklish than he'd care to admit.
Once Peter's front was clean, Erik lifted the boy up by the ankles, and started wiping his bottom.
This was a little strange for Peter; He hadn't been changed by someone else since he was three years old. However, it wasn't unpleasant. It was actually quite nice not having to do it by himself. Relaxed, he began sucking on his index knuckle as he watched Erik clean him.
Erik noticed this, and smiled a little. His son actually looked like a baby in that moment. After cleaning up the boy's bottom, Erik threw the used wipes into the old diaper, then carefully lowered Peter's bottom onto the new one. He then picked up the tube of rash cream. He read the instructions, and skimmed the ingredients until something caught his eye. "Zinc," he chuckled, hoping Peter would understand why he found that ironic.
"What's so funny?" Peter asked, confused.
"Zinc is a metal," Erik explained, uncapping the tube and putting a bit of cream on his fingers. "It is used in many vitamins and lotions, yet it is still a metal."
"Oh. I didn't know that," Peter said, an amused smile on his face. "Pretty fitting."
Erik nodded. "Now hold still, Gepard," Erik said as he began to rub the thick cream on Peter's groin.
"Gepard?"
"Cheetah," Erik explained. "That's what the animal is called in German."
Peter nodded to show that he understood. "So is that, like, my new nickname or something?"
"If you'd like it to, it can," Erik replied, finishing applying the rash cream.
Without realizing it, Peter smiled. "I like it."
"Really?" Erik asked, getting the powder ready.
Peter nodded in response.
Erik smiled, and then started powdering the grey-haired teen.
Peter could feel himself slipping into a more childlike mindset, but he did his best to resist being little. After all, even though Erik was turning out to be a nicer person than he'd expected, Peter was still afraid that if he showed him his innocent, vulnerable side, he would end up heartbroken.
Once Erik had finished powdering his son, he taped up the new diaper, then helped him sit up. "There we go."
"Thanks," Peter said. "Hey, was that your first time changing a diaper? 'Cause you did a really good job of it."
"Yes, actually," Erik replied, throwing the used diaper and wipes away. "Thank you, my boy."
The words 'my boy' managed to make Peter grin. He was starting to feel very comfortable around Erik.
"What next, hm?" Erik asked, taking a seat on the couch. "How can I make your day better?"
"I'm hungry; Can you feed me?"
"Of course. What would you like to eat?"
Peter answered by taking out a jar of baby food, a bib and a spoon which he then handed to his father.
Erik raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"
"Mmhm," Peter replied, nodding.
"Well, alright then. Should we go to the kitchen?"
"Nah; Right here is fine," Peter said, sitting beside his father.
Erik began to unscrew the top of the jar, but then Peter interrupted him.
"Aren't you gonna put my bib on for me?"
"Oh, right," Erik said, picking the bib up. Upon getting a better look at it, he saw that it had the words 'Trouble Maker' printed on it. 'How appropriate,' Erik thought, amused.
After fastening the bib around the boy's neck, Erik opened up the jar of baby food. To his surprise, it actually smelled alright, but the consistency still didn't look appetizing to him. He scooped up a decent-sized spoonful, and held it up to Peter's lips. "Okay, Gepard, open up."
Peter gladly took the food into his mouth, and savored the strawberry and banana flavor before swallowing.
"Good boy," Erik said as he prepared another spoonful.
Those words brought a bright smile to Peter's face, and a warm, fuzzy feeling to his heart.
Erik chuckled softly. "Here comes the airplane!" he said, holding up the spoon.
Peter giggled, and opened his mouth wide, delighted by how silly his father was being.
Erik put the spoon in Peter's mouth, and even made airplane noises to add to the effect, which his son clearly enjoyed immensely.
"Yummy," Peter said after swallowing more food, smiling widely. The little voice that kept saying Erik didn't really care about him spoke up again, but Peter brushed it off this time. He was truly beginning to see the genuine love his father had for him.
Erik smiled, and prepared another spoonful which he then placed in Peter's open mouth.
In the process of consuming the next bite of food, Peter ended up getting some of it on his face, though he didn't seem to notice.
"Such a messy boy," Erik chortled, wiping his son's mouth with the bib.
Peter smiled, and gurgled in an infantile manner.
After feeding his son the whole jar, Erik wiped the boy's mouth once again. "There we are."
"Thank you," Peter said softly.
"Now, what do you want to do next?"
"This," Peter replied before suddenly enveloping Erik in a warm hug.
Surprised by this, Erik slowly wrapped his arms around Peter, and gave him a gentle, yet firm squeeze.
After a few moments, Peter pulled away from the embrace, and looked down at the floor. "Sorry, I, um...Sorry.."
"What's the matter?" Erik asked gently, "Did I do something wrong?"
Peter shook his head. "Nuh uh. It's just.. I just did that so suddenly; I didn't even ask if you were cool with it.."
"Why wouldn't I be? You are my son, after all."
"So it's okay if I hug you?"
"Of course," Erik said, smiling softly. "I change your diapers, don't I?"
That brought a tiny smile back to Peter's face.
"There's that smile I was looking for," Erik chuckled before beginning to tickle Peter's tummy.
Peter squeaked in surprise, then fell onto his side, giggling.
"The tickle monster's going to get you!" Erik laughed, continuing to tickle the boy.
"Nooo! Not the tickle monster!' Peter squealed, a wide smile on his face.
"He's verrry hungry today!" Erik growled playfully, "Especially for the tummies of little boys named Peter!"
Peter squeaked again, loving the attention he was receiving.
Erik continued to tickle Peter's belly, and growl in a playful manner. To his surprise, he was having the most fun he'd had since he was a young boy.
After a minute or so, Erik eased up on the tickling, and gave Peter's tummy a few gentle pats, allowing him to catch his breath. "How is your diaper after all that?"
"Pretty wet, actually," Peter replied, blushing a little.
"Alright, I'll change you," Erik said, getting the changing supplies out. "Just lay down, son."
Peter nodded, and did so.
After placing the new diaper under Peter's bottom, Erik untaped the used one, and began wiping the boy's groin. "How often do you wet, Peter? Just so I know how often to check you."
"About once every fifteen to twenty minutes," Peter said, "I, uh, also have accidents when I sleep."
"I'll do my best to remember," Erik said as he applied some baby powder to Peter's front. "I wouldn't want you getting a diaper rash."
"If they're anything like friction rashes, I'd prefer to avoid getting one."
"Do you get those when running?" Erik asked, rubbing the power in.
"Sometimes, but not as much as I used to."
"Still be careful, Peter," Erik advised as he taped up the diaper.
Peter nodded as Erik helped him sit back up.
Erik then stood up, and looked at the television. "Do you have a favorite program we could watch?"
"Well, if you don't mind watching a kid's show, Sesame Street is on."
"You'll have to forgive me; I've never heard of it."
"It's an educational show with puppet characters. My little sister and I watch it together. I don't think she knows I like it as much as she does."
"She must really look up to you," Erik remarked.
Peter grinned. "She tells all her friends she has the best big brother ever."
"I couldn't agree more," Erik smiled.
Peter's heart practically started glowing upon hearing that. "You really think so?"
"Of course," Erik responded, taking a seat on the couch after turning the tv on.
Peter sat next to him, even nuzzling against him affectionately.
Erik gently wrapped an arm around Peter's side to let the boy know that he had him.
Admittedly, Erik couldn't quite understand certain aspects of the show, but he enjoyed watching it with his son, who seemed to have a permanent smile on his face.
Peter placed his knuckle in his mouth once again, and began sucking on it, occasionally making happy baby noises while doing so. He felt so safe and secure with his father here.
After a while, Erik felt his eyes growing tired. He looked up at the clock on the wall, then down at his son. "Naptime soon, Gepard."
Peter was a little surprised by that; He hadn't expected for Erik to assume he needed naps like actual babies did. However, this actually made him quite happy; It made him feel taken care of. "Okay, Papa."
Erik smiled warmly, and gave Peter's hair a few gentle strokes.
Once Sesame Street was over, Erik turned the television off, and put a blanket over his son. "Would you like me to sing to you?"
"Yes, please," Peter said, smiling.
Erik nodded. "Just as a warning, I'm a little rusty when it comes to singing."
"I don't mind. Besides, I like hearing your voice."
That made Erik feel all warm and fuzzy inside. He ran his fingers through Peter's hair, and began to sing Brahm's Lullaby ( or Wiegenlied, as his mother had called it) in a low, soothing voice.
Before long, Peter was fast asleep. Closing his eyes, Erik rested his head against the back of the couch. "Sweet dreams, Gepard," he whispered before drifting off to sleep himself.