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“Scooter—“
“Someone’s hungry, huh?”
“Scooter.”
“Are you a hungry little guy?”
“Scooter!”
Walter doesn’t mean to make Scooter jump. He would, however, appreciate it if his husband would acknowledge his existence for a second or two. He’s essentially been dead to the world since the baby arrived.
It was all a bit of a surprise. Kermit had mentioned something about a visiting cousin and an appointment and some potential babysitting, but Walter hadn’t realised that would result in a little baby spending a day in the theatre. Perhaps he should have known better. Why should anything go smoothly, with the Muppets?
“Hi.” Scooter beams, looking at Walter for all of half a second before he redirects his attention back to the bundle in his arms. “I think this little guy’s getting fussy.”
Walter watches this rather tender scene with growing amusement, and some strange, warm feeling blooming in his chest. He really is a very little baby. Walter briefly saw the last little end of his tadpole tail before Scooter got him all cosied up in his blanket a short while ago. He’s been so broody about the little thing it’s entirely possible Piggy doesn’t even know there’s a baby in the theatre—this, Walter expects, is the only reason she hasn’t stormed in demanding to cradle him.
Scooter isn’t the only clucky one around here.
“You really want kids, don’t you?”
Walter asks, reaching out to gently tuck one of the baby’s kicky little flippers back under his blanket. He hasn’t seemed to have gotten the hang of his new legs just yet.
“Yeah.” Scooter smiles wider, somehow. “I wanna have—lots. Lots of ‘em.”
Walter hums. Scooter bounces the bundle some, the baby inside burbling indistinctly.
“We could have a baby.”
“I—what?”
“I mean, if you want kids, and I want kids. We could have a baby together.” Walter swallows a little heavier than he meant to. “I’d like to have a baby with you.”
“Oh.” Scooter blinks at him. The baby gives a tiny sneeze. “Oh, bless you! Uh, but—Walter, really?”
“Really.”
“Really really?”
In lieu of continuing this line of discussion, Walter merely nods. Scooter’s expression shifts from surprised to adoring, love lights flashing behind his plastic glasses frames.
“I love you.”
“I love you, too. So, can I hold him? Get a little practice in?”
To Walter’s surprise, Scooter shakes his head.
“Oh, no. Kermit left me in charge of him. He’s my baby for today, Walter.”
Walter should very likely be offended by this, but he instead finds himself biting back a laugh at Scooter’s almost indignant tone, like the very idea of Scooter not holding this baby every second of the day is completely absurd.
At the very least, Walter holds no fears about Scooter being a hands-on father.