Chapter Text
It was late into the night when Qifrey was alerted to the rustling of sheets and the small coos of a restless newborn. The quiet snores of his partner soon reach his ears and so the sleepy witch resigns himself to sitting up, a hand reaching up to push his bedhead away from his eye and the other lazily placing his glasses onto his face so he can look over at the occupied crib sitting at the foot of their bed. The illusion spell that produces a field of stars twinkling faintly above the child does little to settle his daughter back into restfulness, so Qifrey slowly eases himself out of bed and walks to the small bassinet.
Coco’s quiet coos grow in volume and excitement at the sight of her father’s silhouette and Qifrey quickens his pace in hopes that she would calm down once she was held. Long arms reach out, gentle hands grab the swaddled babe and snugly tuck her closer to the parent’s chest in a loving embrace meant to hopefully soothe her back to sleep.
“Hi Co.” His tone was gentle and barely reaching a whisper, one that was suited for the lateness of the hour and his tired state. His shoulders tense when Olruggio shifts in his sleep, before easing back down after hearing a particularly loud snore filling the silent night air, confirming that he wasn’t woken up by Qifrey’s voice.
Coco wiggles in her blanket cocoon and whimpers when her small arms don’t find freedom, leading to Qifrey breathing a laugh before loosening her wrap just enough for her to finally reach out for her father’s nose. Her pudgy fingers poke at the tip of his nose, causing him to lean back on instinct, “You’re a curious turnip, aren’t you?” He uses a free hand to gently take hold her much smaller one, tracing small circles into the palm with his thumb, while humming a lullaby quietly under his breath.
The witch’s feet lead him to a rocking chair at the furthest corner of the room, one bought for this very purpose in mind following some trial and error after Coco’s birth. The creaking of wood settling with new weight causes Qifrey to winch before slowly easing himself back into the backrest with a bit more care. Coco coos quietly at her father, clearing very opinionated at such a young age, but Qifrey just smiles back as she tries to relay whatever she wished to say about their current position.
The rocking of his chair and the soft hum of his voice didn’t seem to draw Coco closer to sleep after a handful of minutes, so he reposition her- both of his hands supporting her back and neck so that he can look at her in his lap, a singular eyebrow raised in faux judgment, “Co, you must know by now that your papa and I are very busy people who need their rest, yes?” He knows that his clear words won’t process fully in a newborn’s brain, but he had read somewhere that speaking to a baby clearly and as if they understood anyways would help with their development, so he continues despite how ridiculous he must seem, “So, you should really give your tired dad a break, no?”
Coco giggles at his query and reaches for his face again, small hand grasping his nose and squeezing softly before her curious hands travel to his frames. Small fingers grab the glasses before trying to tug them off her father’s face, causing said father to intervene sternly, “No Coco.”
At the sight of her wide eyes becoming tearful and her thin lips wobbling, Qifrey’s own eye widens in fear before he hastily returns the glasses to her, “Fine, fine. But only this once, you hear me?” His words fall on deaf ears as his daughter was now completely transfixed with the glasses in her hands.
Untrained hands fumble with the circular lenses, before she nearly drops them, resulting in a larger hand then moving to snatch them from their sudden descent before they could hit the ground and break, “See? You can’t hold them yet.” He sets the glasses down on the small table nearby before settling down again, instead letting his baby play with his ink-stained fingers when she eventually grows restless.
Coco’s childish giggles fill the air when Qifrey gently pokes her round tummy, tickling her briefly before letting her tightly grasp his fingers in an act of vengeance. The silent night accompanied with his child, safe and happy in his arms, fills Qifrey’s chest with a sense of contentment that he initially pays no mind to as he softly squeezes Coco’s pinkie to make her giggle once more. Wide, golden eyes look up at him, then, and his baby sends him a bright- yet toothless- smile that only serves to add onto his parental joy in that weightless moment.
A small hand releases one of his fingers to once again reach towards his face, but this time they avoid his nose, and instead reach for it’s right side. They grasp onto something out of his field of vision before retreating with a small, silver leaf crumbled in her tiny fist. Qifrey gasps softly, but avoids jumping from the chair in fear that he’d drop his child, so he instead shakily tries to release the baby’s tight grip on his leaf. The witch feels his heart’s frantic rhythm only growing worse as his child only creates a tighter fist, making the effort to get it back especially more difficult for him to achieve.
He feels the growing branch that he had failed to feel before begin to retreat back into his eye socket and he finally chooses to stand, baby clutched tightly to his chest as he tries to silently exit his and Olruggio’s room, retreating into the living room so he can hopefully get this damning evidence out of his child’s hands before his partner awakens to find them like this- an adult frantically trying to claw open a baby’s fist, while said baby only whimpers in response, her surprisingly tight grip only lessening when her eyes begin well with tears.
“I’m sorry, Coco, but you can not have this.” The witch tries to console, tucking the evidence away into his sleeve for disposal of later, “It’s not yours to have.” He draws his child closer to his chest, hugging her close as he sways in the middle of their living room, heart finally beginning to settle it’s erratic beating as he hums the lullaby once more.
He uses a hand to smooth her light green tufts of hair back, humming softly and giving quiet apologies as the night grows later and the father’s legs grow numb from the act of swaying for so long. The baby in his arms steadily calms, her small body hiccuping every few minutes until the sounds of soft breathing reaches Qifrey’s ears. A relieved breath leaves his lips before he turns, feet leading him back to his bedroom and carrying a few extra pounds of remorse and guilt to further fuel his self-deprecation later on.
It’s probably a good thing that babies don’t usually retain memories from such a young age… The thought is startling and Qifrey hurries to re-swaddle his child for bed once more before leaving the bedroom again, instead deciding to get started on prepping for their morning meal early, This won’t happen again. He swears silently to himself, ignoring the smaller voice reminding him of the last time he had such a thought, It will be different this time. I will not let her down. He picks up his glasses from where he set them down at and slips them on once more.
He activates a small pyre ball spell that is left out for cooking purposes and quickly snatches the silver leaf from his sleeve, igniting the flora with no ceremony and watches it burn, leaving behind a small pile of silver ash that he scoops into his hand and releases out the open kitchen window, watching as the glittering dust catches onto the wind and harmlessly floats away on the breeze. That done, Qifrey silently washes his hands and tugs on his cooking apron, hands steady as he ties the knot on his back and turns to face the rest of the kitchen with a forced smile, “Well, what will I make for us this morning?”