hi can you please make a fluffy fic with mare and her baby boy shade calore im begging you its for science 🥺
Who wants baby Barrow Calores? I do!!!!! So here is a fluffy lil fic. I can’t believe this didn’t devolve into angst. We got a lil bit, but it’s so fluffy I couldn’t handle ruining it. Enjoy children! (also no editing? This seems to be a theme of mine now)
@evangelineartemiasamos, @universegamer, @caven—malore, @mareshmallow, @marecal-trash, @marecalrandomstuff, @marecalforever, @scxrletguardsdawn, @redqueenetwork (yikes this isn’t exactly mission 4, but kind of? Mare’s surrounded by her friends/family) @turquoise-is-pretty (dont think I dont remember your post about them having babies), @redqueen-marecal-lover. Is anyone else here still? I feel like everyone left. ):
He’s so small, that’s my first thought when the nurse finally hands him to me. My entire body trembles with exhaustion, and more than anything I just want to curl up and sleep.
Seeing that I probably will drop him if she lets me take his full weight, the nurse passes my hands and gently sets him on my chest, letting him rest there before I rest my hands on his back. His dark eyes are already open, looking around groggily at the world around him. My face is probably barely in focus, so I crane my neck, even though it sends a spike of pain down my back, and pulls on old scars. Softly, I brush my fingers along his full head of hair. Dark, more black than brown. That ruddy color to his cheeks is unmistakably red though. The entire time I had carried him, I had been uncertain how I would feel if he was a red like me. At least as a silver he would have been guaranteed an ability, and a chance to fit into our family. He wouldn’t have been an outsider among his own parents. Now though, the odds of him having that future have increased.
My heart already aches for a future that hasn’t even come to pass. Was this what it was going to be like? Always wishing something else had happened so that he wouldn’t have to suffer? I shift him slightly, and press a light kiss on his hairline, and a hot tear rolls down my nose to plop on his head. He registers the shift in his position with an almost imperceptible cry. Healthy, he was healthy though. That was all that mattered, after everything that had happened during my pregnancy, he was healthy. A small miracle in itself.
Countless months of blood transfusions to combat anemia, meeting Sara almost daily, and dealing with the constant fear that I would get into this hospital and give birth to something that would never breathe. It used to wake me in the middle of the night, gasping and sweating, reaching my hands out into the darkness for a baby that was being taken away from me. He was here now though, and a small part of me wishes he was back inside of me. I could protect him so much better if he was still there.
Cal’s hand on my neck brings me out of my thoughts, and I am surprised to feel rivers of tears running down my cheeks. I had forgotten he was next to me. His concern is in his brows, which are drawn together tightly. I give him a weak smile and then whisper, “I’m fine.”
HIs worry barely disappears, and he slowly rises from the chair. Swinging his leg he climbs on the bed with me, even though Sara had hissed at him not to do that early on. I immediately press into his side, soaking up the warmth that is there. Now that the emotional struggle is over, I feel cold. My hair is still wet with sweat, and there is a cold draft in the room somewhere. I wrap our son tighter in my arms, worried he’s cold as well.
Cal wraps an arm around me, and holds me closer to him, while his other hand reaches out for the baby between us. His hand hovers for a moment, as if he’s uncertain. I glance up at him, wondering what is making him hesitate. There is an emotion there that I don’t have a name for, but it is quickly replaced as he sets his hand on our son’s head. His thumb runs along the feathery hairs, and he whispers softly, “He’s beautiful, you did amazing.”
I laugh at his words, and he chuckles. This had been both of us, two cells coming together in the perfect combination. A one in a million chance. The odds had been stacked so high against us that I began to think there would never be a moment like this. Turning my head further to rest my forehead against his jaw, I whisper, “I’m exhausted, so guess who gets to do parenting duties for the first year while I take numerous naps?”
He laughs at my words, only to press a kiss against my temple and say, “Anything you need, I live to serve you.”
Between us, our son yawns, opening his mouth wide enough to reveal two pinks gums. He closes his eyes and his head lolls back. Cal catches it with his hand, and gently guides it back to my chest while I lay back among the pillows. I try to keep my breathing even so that he doesn’t shift more than he needs to.
We both watch him breathe for a few minutes, and I count every single inhale and exhale, adding them to the strange tally of firsts I am keeping in my head. “I name this one right?” I eventually ask in the silence, my thumb caressing his little back as he sleeps. Cal tilts his head to the side, his lips pulling up in a smile as he says, “Are you inferring that you will do this again? Because just an hour ago you were breaking my hand and screaming that you were going to kill me, in very colorful terms. I think Sara blushed once or twice.”
“Heat of the moment,” I defend, with an awkward laugh, and he gives me a knowing smile. Shifting to face me on the bed, he watches my hands for a moment and then says, “You can name them all if you want.”
“That’s not fair. I’ll name him, and you can name the next one. When we have it, ten years from now.”
He throws his head back and laughs, before reaching a hand out and pushing the hairs sticking to my neck and chest behind my ear. His fingers trail along my cheek, and for a moment I am awed that he can love me when I look like this. My throat still hurts from screaming, and I know that I hardly look like the woman that he had rolled around with in the sheets nine months ago. I had thought that as soon as my son left my body it would at least go back to being semi-normal, but even through the sheets I can see that some of that pudge is still there. It might never go away. I remembered Farley bemoaning it for months after Clara.
“I have never seen you smile like you did when you heard him cry for the first time.” Cal admits, his expression whimsical as he reaches out again to touch our son’s back. He trails his fingers along his arm and softly touches his hand, his fingers closing around that tiny fist.
It’s like watching the moon orbit a planet. Gravity pulls both of us into him, just as it had done from the moment he became something tangible with the first kick.
Someone shouts outside of the door, shattering the stillness of the moment, and my head snaps up, my fingers curling around my son as I pull him tighter to my chest and away from Cal’s hand. His eyes snap to the door, the room increasing in temperature as I watch his shoulders roll into a defensive stance. So protective already, it’s not like I am any different though. I was ready to die for this baby the moment I felt him move in me for the first time.
I catch a few words that are exchanged outside and relax before saying, “It’s just Bree.”
Sure enough, the door opens and both of my brothers almost fall into the room. I can’t help but smile as they manage to right themselves, and almost knock Gisa over when she tries to slide between them. She glides past them and into the room, carrying a bottle of something that I vaguely recognize as champagne. She holds it up and says, “Dad has the glasses.”
“We’re drinking already? The kid isn’t even an hour old.” Bree states as he pushes Tramy away and walks to the foot of the bed. I eye them both, a growl almost rising up in my throat. They were two large animals at the best of times, and my son was still so small. They catch sight of my expression, and Bree blushes to the tips of his ears before saying, “What?”
“You two need to keep a radius of ten miles from that baby,” My mother announces as she appears at Bree’s shoulder. She moves past them, apparently not sensing my hackles rising. She edges past Gisa and presses a kiss to my hair saying, “You did so well! Seventeen hours is good, I was in labor with Bree for almost a day and half.”
“That’s because his fat head got stuck.” Tramy teases.
I shy away from my mother a little bit, when she leans closer to see the baby, and almost press into Cal, who has shifted again to face the rest of the room. His eyes scan my family, and like me, he seems to be assess all of the risks. More people means it’s easier for something to happen that we can’t prevent. I have no idea what I am so cautious all of the sudden though. This is my family, they would never do anything to hurt this baby.
“You guys are smothering her, give Mare room to breathe,” Gisa demands as she sets the bottle down and returns to the door to help my dad. He enters almost silently, carrying a small box of mismatches glasses. His presence seems to finally bring quiet. I relax just slightly, as he comes to the side of the bed with my mother, and says, “These people, we had to smuggle this in here.”
“Probably for good reason,” Farley says in the doorway. I relax even further when I see her. Farley would understand what I was feeling right now. There is a squeal from near her legs though, and a second later, Clara pops into existence at the foot of the bed. I tense and pull away from her as she crawls up the bed, her bubbly laugh escaping as she says, “Can I see the baby aunt Mare?”
I almost scramble back and climb up the wall to keep her away from him. She pauses near my hip, her face falling and her eyes widening as the space between us crackles with electricity and the air picks up the scent of ozone. The room immediately goes silent, and the tension is enough to make my heart pound. I glance around hesitantly at all of them, before saying hoarsely, “He’s so small…” and so delicate goes unsaid. Cal wraps his arm around me again, sensing my need for a place to hide, and pulls me closer to him as I lean into his support.
My mother finally seems to catch onto the mood, and she slowly pulls Clara back before saying tenderly, “Of course he is sweetheart, it’s okay though.”
“They’re like little bouncy balls, they take hits that you’d be surprised by.” Farley assures as well, as she pulls Clara closer to her near the foot of the bed and whispers something in her ear. She puckers her lips and looks at me before saying, “You promised I could hold the baby.”
“I bet Cal hasn’t even held him yet, and he probably wants to hold his baby.” Farley says softly to Clara who glares at her mother and says, “Aunt Mare didn’t promise him, she promised me.”
“But you are the cousin, and that is their baby.” She admonishes, and rolls her eyes in my direction before saying, “Aren’t you excited? This is what you have to look forward to.”
I crack a small smile, and sit up a little straighter. The room shifts and relaxes in response to me. Gisa looks around the room before saying, “You know we had to draw straws to get in here? Ella, and Rafe, and Tyton are waiting in the lobby area, and being so impatient.”
“They can wait a little while,” I whisper, as I search the hallway. My family is here, but I haven’t seen Julian. Then again, Sara was probably keeping him in the waiting room for a little bit to keep the room from getting too crowded. And I know Anabel is here. She had written to me a month ago, asking hesitantly if it would be uncomfortable and unwished, for her to come. It had taken me a few days to craft a response, but I had told her if she wished to brave my family then she would be welcome. She was a part of this baby family as much as my parents were. Besides, it wasn’t every day that someone became a great grandmother. Maybe with the Silvers it was common, but among the reds, even my parents living to see two grandchildren was a surprise.
The room is practically filled to the brim without them though. Clara edges closer to me while I look away, and this time I don’t pull away from her when she sticks her head around my arm. She puckers her lips and then says with disgust, “It looks like an ugly tomato.”
“Clara,” my mother admonishes, as she reaches for her. I laugh at her words though, and smiling down at her I say, “Well you looked like a tomato too when you were born.”
She looks up at me and with narrowed eyes and says, “Did not.”
“Did to, I remember, and Cal does too.” I say as I glance at him. He blushes for a second, when I put him on the spot. Clara looks over her shoulder at her mother and asks horrified, “I looked like a tomato?”
“Yes, but the best tomato at the market.” Farley teases, even though her eyes glint at me. We both remember that day very differently. I remember a storm and a little white pill, and she remembers excruciating pain and then inexplicable relief.
“Walking down memory lane is great and all, but does this little guy have a name? That champagne is getting warm while we sit here talking.” Bree asks, his brows bouncing as he teases. Clara climbs up onto her knees, and using my shoulder to support herself, she looks down at my son and says, “She looks like a Arianna.”
“She is a he, so I’m afraid that is not going to work,” Cal teases her, and Clara’s mouth falls open in horror. She looks between the two of us before saying, “You guys had a boy? You were supposed to have a girl! I can’t play with a boy!”
Cal laughs, and I smile as I reach up to tuck one of Clara’s blonde curls behind her ear. “You wont be playing with him for a few years anyway.”
“Come on then, don’t keep us in suspense, what’s his name?” Tramy asks, while he starts drumming his hands on the end of the bed in a drumroll. I twist my lips at him only to admit softly, “I… never thought of one.”
“Then Cal gets to name him.” Bree reasons, and next to me Cal shrugs before saying, “Next one.”
“Oh good. It won’t be Tibarias then, because that’s an unfortunate name.” Bree snickers as he replies, and Cal’s face drops into mock annoyance. I can’t help laughing as well though. It has been years since anyone has bothered to call him that, and I know a part of him still smarts when they do, but for the most part he can laugh it off.
I glance down at my son again who has opened his eyes with all the noise, and shifting. He blinks up at me, his eyes the color of dark honey. My heart aches for a moment as I think about that, and I trace his cheek as I follow that train of thought. I had tried to not think about my brother during this whole thing. He should have been in this room with us, teasing me and nipping at Cal. He was here though, in Clara, and in my memory of him. I chew on my lower lip for a moment, trying to keep the tears at bay as I think about that. I don’t need Bree to tease me about my emotions again.
Cal’s forehead presses to my temple and he whispers, “Tell me.”
I turn my head slowly and whisper it into his ear. When I pull back, I watch his face for a moment. His expression goes distant, and sad, before he turns to me and asks, “Are you sure?”
I nod, and even though my heart feels like it’s breaking all over again, it’s not in pain. This feels like breaking something down to build it back up again. To build something stronger and better than before. The future was already changing, and my son will not have to go to war, and he will not have to face the trials that I did. He wont have to make the impossible decisions that Cal made, or face the same horrors that Farley did.
I turn back to my family and smiling, open my mouth to tell them exactly my thoughts, but my mother holds her hands out and shouts, “Wait! Not yet! We toast to the name. Bree get the glasses.”
My brother squeezes by my dad and with Gisa’s help starts pouring the champagne. Someone else appears in the doorway and I spot Sara carrying a small bundle in her arms. She glances around at everyone, and Julian is suddenly next to her, saying, “Goodness, it’s packed in here.”
“Unfortunately, I have enough family for everyone.” I say, and Sara smiles before edging around to Cal’s side. She gives him a smile and then says, “We had to go grab your gift from Julian’s office where he left it.” She offers up the blanket in her arms, and I smile as she unfolds it and helps me wrap my son in it. He grabs a tiny fistful of it in response, and I lean back among the blankets.
The glasses are passed around, and I even take one, with a tease from Tramy to watch my tolerance after months of not drinking. Surrounded by all of them, I glance at Cal, who tips his head to me and says, “You did all the hard work, you get to make the announcement.”
I draw the tip of my tongue along my lips. I have never been one for standing up and making speeches, but for my son, I will try to keep my voice from wobbling. I raise my glass slowly and say, “To Shade Barrow Calore, may you always know your family loves you and stands by you, and may you enjoy the future we are building for you, my darling.”
Farley’s intake of breath is soft as I utter his name, but still she smiles at me, as she raises her glass to answer the toast, and says softly, her words almost breaking, “To Shade Barrow Calore, happy birthday.” She brings her glass to her lips and takes a sip, hugging Clara close to her as she does.
The rest of my family raises their glasses, echoing her words. My mother has to clear her throat before saying it, and she has tears in her eyes as she does. They fall as she takes her sip, but she still leans down and presses another kiss to my hair.
Bree clears his throat and speaks to break the mood in the room, “It’s certainly better than Tibarias.”
That brings a true laugh from everyone, even Cal who leans close to me and whispers, “Easier to spell too.”
I chuckle as I press a kiss to his lips, tasting the champagne as I do. He pulls back slightly while the rest of our family finally finds each other more interesting to give us this moment. He reaches up to wipe my tears away and says, “You know that wherever he is right now, he’s puffing his chest out because you named your son after him.”
“He wouldn’t have shut up about it if he was here.” I answer, and I am surprised that I can laugh a little bit about that comment. Maybe I will be able to laugh more about Shade in the future. My son will carry his name on, and will hopefully heal whatever part of me is still bruised and aching over my brother.
Between us, Shade lets out a little sigh and grabs at my shirt with needing hands. Smiling down at him, I give him my finger to hold onto. He has a surprisingly strong grip, and I marvel at that, and at him. He was going to grow so fast, and I know instantly that these will be the moments I miss. For now though, I will try to not think about the future, or the past too much. I’ll let this moment own my full attention. I’ll let gravity do all the work and pull me closer and closer to my son.
