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The newborn nuzzled her mother's chest fluff. She had already been fed, so this was for pure comfort. A comfort Angel had feared he would never be able to give her, as she had spent her first week in the incubator.
Those scientists Val had borrowed from Vox had bluntly warned Angel that she might never come out of that incubator, but they were scientists, not doctors. Well, some might have called themselves “Doctor” for all Angel knew, but they were certainly not the kind of doctors meant to look after babies.
By the end of her first week, Bella could breathe on her own, and that meant she could cry. Val hated that, but it gave Angel a small sense of accomplishment to be the one who could get her to stop crying.
“Bellina,” Angel whispered. “La mamma e qui...Mama is here.”
The baby turned her head, slightly and made a little noise. With Angel's hand carefully supporting her fluffy, antenna-topped little head, Bella managed to look at him. She seemed to have some trouble focusing, which concerned Angel. He knew newborns could not see too well, but something might be wrong.
Angel didn't want to dwell on that. He, Fat Nuggets, and Bella had the penthouse to themselves, unless you counted Kitty. Angel didn't know where Valentino had gone, as the Overlord of Film had not deigned to tell his property what his plans were for the night. Valentino already spent so much time telling Angel how “lucky” he was to be allowed to live in the penthouse during the later months of his pregnancy instead of in the mildewed apartments designated for the Vees' souls.
A gilded cage, in all senses. Val had acted put-upon as he indulged Angel's increased cravings for his favourite chocolate-covered strawberries, while whining about how Angel's body was ruined enough. Early on in the pregnancy, Val had gone so far as to put Angel in “feeding” movies to try and hide what was really making him gain weight.
Angel tried to make himself stop thinking about that, too. He did not want to ruin this sweet “mother-daughter” moment, a rare and genuine privilege for Angel.
Angel did not care if Val was out at clubs looking for “newer, hotter talent” as the moth put it, or spending the night with Vox, or wherever else. As long as Val was far away and not trying to ruin the precious bonding time between Angel and Bella. The first time Angel had gotten to take Bella out of her incubator, Valentino had been lurking in the nursery doorway as though he expected Angel to drop her or do something else wrong, giving another reason for Val to berate Angel.
Right now, all that mattered was that Angel could just enjoy this peace with his babies, Bella in his upper arms and his lower arms petting Fat Nuggets.
“Nice to not have Papi here, isn't it?” Angel cooed to Bella. “He tries to make you feel bad, because you're smaller than you were supposed to be. Mama and Zia Molly were small, too, and your Nonno was mean to them. He thought we'd die. Twins usually have a hard time bein' born, like you did...”
Having realized his voice had gotten lower and darker, Angel tried to pitch his voice back up.
“But Mama and Molly lived, and they got bigger. You'll get bigger, too, so Papi can...eh, I guess Papi's already gone to Hell. If there's a place worse than Hell, he can go there instead.”
Still, Angel supposed he should be grateful to Val for providing this nice cushioned rocking chair, one of the few cozy things in the cramped nursery.
Angel steadily rocked back and forth. Drowsy little Bella once more rested her head on his chest, and Angel rested his hand on her back, just the way she liked it. Bella made the softest, sweetest little sigh that made Angel want to cry. He'd cried a lot over the past several months, but this time it was a good cry.
“I know a pretty song,” Angel whispered to the baby. “I think you'll like it; the song has your name in it.”
This lullaby was called “Farfallina bella e bianca.” That meant “Beautiful little white butterfly.” A sweet, simple lullaby of a butterfly looking for flowers.
Bella was purple, not white, and given her father's traits, she would more likely become a moth like Valentino. Even so, Angel thought this was a perfect lullaby for Bella, as she was little and she was beautiful, no matter what Val or the other Vees said.
Angel wondered if Bella would like flowers as she got older. Would she prefer Earth flowers or, given she was a Hellborn, like those freaky Hell flowers that certain crazy fans used to send Angel? Those flowers were yet another thing Angel decided to stop thinking about.
The lullaby worked. Bella fell asleep, and quite fast, too. It was not a long lullaby. Angel loved being able to sing to Bella without any interruptions. Val mocked him for singing to Bella before she was even born, with headphones on his baby bump. Val thought unborn babies did not have ears. Val also complained about Angel singing in Italian. What a hypocrite; Val hated when Vox complained about him speaking Spanish.
Val was just jealous that he only knew a single lullaby for Bella, a Spanish one Val could only half-remember.
Angel kissed the top of Bella's head, carefully avoiding contact with her antennae. Her antennae were the most sensitive part of her body, and her ears, too. Her ears could not be easily seen, but Angel knew where they were.
Fat Nuggets rested his head against Angel's legs; the lullaby had made the pig drowsy, too. Angel smiled fondly and petted his Nuggsie some more. Taking care of Fat Nuggets had given Angel practice taking care of Bella, but he didn't want his pet to feel unloved and replaced.
The incubator sat ominously where a bassinet ought to have been. Next to it was the pillow and blanket Angel slept with. He spent almost all of his time in the nursery these days unless Val got “lonely”.
When Angel looked at the incubator, Snow White's glass coffin came to mind. He wondered why Walt Disney had chosen to adapt that creepy story, of all fairy tales, as his first full-length production. People could say what they wanted about Disney but his version was better.
For some reason, Angel kept wondering why the king in the old Grimm fairy tale seemingly had not noticed or cared that his wife was trying to kill his daughter. The king had no part in his daughter's life at all, from what Angel remembered.
Angel wouldn't be like that. He would never let Valentino hurt Bella...no more than he had, already. Angel had felt such fear that night Bella was born, with the early labour and already being in pain from Val's rage.
Seeing Bella, feeling Bella in his arms, as he listened to and felt her steady breathing...that brought Angel back to the present, and to the future.
“I wish there was a better place for us, Nuggs,” Angel said sadly, resting his lower hand on his pig's head. “If we were on Earth, maybe, but in Hell...”
Nuggets gave a sad-sounding oink.
Angel stared at Bella's peaceful, sleeping face to keep himself in the moment.
“Ti aiutero a essere forte, mi Bella Maria,” Angel whispered to Bella. “La mamma promette.”
If Angel could not give Bella a better home, he would give her the strength he did not have. If Val had not already owned Angel's soul, Angel would have sold it just so that Bella would have the courage to survive.
Again, Angel looked at the incubator, and then back at Bella. He'd keep her in his arms for a little longer. Angel pretended a lot, both on and off-camera. For now, he wanted to pretend that he, Bella, and Fat Nuggets were a safe and happy family.
For the rest of the night, they didn't need to pretend. They truly were happy.