Work Text:
"This doesn't seem right."
"What doesn't seem right?" Jayce doesn't look up when he speaks, mesmerized by the little bundle of joy in his arms taking apart another hard boiled egg with eagerness. Crumbs of dry yolk fall to his chest in bursts, acquainting themselves with those who have settled between the folds of his shirt before.
Mel understands. She can barely keep her eyes off of Zuri herself. Gaze always drawn to the little baby. Her little baby. Which is only partly true. When she looks at her daughter she sees so many more in her than just herself. Brows as thick as Jayce' and the amber in her eyes just as golden. Curls as red as she remembers her mothers to have been back when a young Mel was old enough to gather memories of her own. Zuri isn't just her baby. She is proof of lives lived. Of the love and persistence that existed before her.
Mel watches as Zuri squeezes the egg-whites to mush, shoving bits and pieces to her mouth. Big eyes moving back and forth between her parents as she hums along. A melody Mel knows by heart. A song she finds Ximena sing whenever she rocks her granddaughter to sleep. Which isn't as often as it has been right after her birth. It does sadden her. Partly. She liked having Ximena around to help with the initial stress of caring for a new life — and one that'd find itself cry at unmerciful hours of the day at that. Still — she enjoys having the house to herself again. As much as one can have with both their families making it their goal to surprise them with as many unannounced visits as they can. Especially Mel's own mother.
In this very moment it is just them. Mel resting her chin on Jayce' shoulder as Zuri sits on his stomach, half sunken in one of the jumpers Ximena insisted on gifting them as she happily giggles along. A plate of hard boiled eggs cut in pieces sitting between them surely the cause for it.
"I don't think she should be eating this many eggs," Mel replies quietly, fighting the urge to reach for Zuri's foot and giving it a little squeeze just to get one of her delighted giggles out of her, "I don't think any baby should. For that matter."
"You are biased. You don't like eggs," Jayce simply says, completely unbothered by her concerns. Rather the opposite as he reaches for one of the mushed egg whites that must have fallen out of Zuris grasp. He slips it into his own mouth as if eggs were actually delicious. "I've had plenty eggs as a kid and there's nothing wrong with me."
"Debatable," she says, grimacing at him. She — in fact — does not like eggs and she finds his interest in them highly questionable. Eggs are good for baking and she might indulge in an omelette when graced with the right ingredients. But a boiled egg? Just like that.? No salt, no pepper, no nothing? What has he introduced their daughter to?
"Hey, now!" Jayce feigns offense, nudging his shoulder just enough to disturb her a bit.
Zuri and her kind heart notice the disparity. So she reaches for another quartered egg piece, holding onto it tight as she half crawls towards her mother, rubbing more of the yolk crumbs into Jayces shirt as she asks her with a full mouth, "Mommy want too?"
Mommy does in fact not. But Mommy also doesn't know how to tell her daughter No yet. With little to no emphasis on the yet. She doesn't even know if she wants to unlearn that. She doesn't want a childhood riddled with Nos. With obstacles to stumble over and closed doors to hold back. A constant fight against an invisible hand held over her head. Mel doesn't want Zuri to experience what she has. Not even an ounce of it. She wants better for her daughter. The best, in fact. So the next words come easy to her as she reaches out her hand, "Yes, please."