little man city
In which Owen and Emily meet his nephew for the first time.
A/N: howdy gang! Been a bit of a whirlwind irl lately, so this is going up a touch later than planned! But the summary pretty much sums this fic up haha, hope y'all enjoy! Ao3 link is below too 🫶
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
The lift is quiet, dimly lit, and remarkably empty save for two occupents.
Emily side eyes her boyfriend, a soft smile tugging at her lips as she watches him shift from one foot to the other, practically hopping.
"You're gonna break the elevator if you keep bouncing around like that," she teases, adjusting her grip on the flowers in her arms. She'd splurged a little on the arrangement, going to an actual florist as opposed to picking something up from a regular store.
Owen lowers his foot to the ground, squinting a little as he grins back at her, sheepish. "Sorry. Just kinda like... weirdly nervous, y'know?"
"He's a baby," Emily teases, raising her brows. "He doesn't think any thoughts yet beyond basic survival instincts."
"I know!" He throws up his hands, rustling the giftbag in his hands. "But what if he doesn't like me? I'm his only bloody uncle and he could hate me!"
Emily can't help it; she laughs. Hard.
"Oi," he huffs, though a smile is pulling at the corners of his lips. "S'not funny."
"No, no, it's just..." she grins, so hard it hurts her face, and reaches up with one hand to cradle his cheek. He tilts his head, pressing a kiss to her palm as he keeps his eyes on hers. "You're just so sweet, y'know that? You're worried a baby isn't gonna like you. Babe," she shakes her head, taking a step closer and pressing a peck to his lips. "He's gonna adore you, like everybody else does."
"...can think of 317 people who would disagree with you there," he hums, excluding her, as always.
"That..." she tuts, narrowing her eyes. "Was a freak occurrence... of which I'm still very, very sorry for."
"S'fine," Owen shrugs a shoulder, pressing another few kisses to her palm. "More than made up for it, aintcha?" He grins, wolfishly, before stealing a slightly harder kiss from her lips.
There is a ping as the lift opens. The pair step out, following the directions pointing in the direction of the maternity ward.
With every step they take, Emily can feel the nerves ooze out of him. Sees it in his slightly twitchy hands, the sweat beading beneath his fringe.
They come to a stop outside of Freya's private room, and Emily smiles up at him again, nudging him with her elbow. "It'll be okay, babe, promise."
Owen smiles nervously down at her, pressing a kiss to her temple. He keeps his face buried in her hair for a moment, before reaching out and lightly knocking on the door, cracking it open a smidge before poking his head in.
"Y'alright?" he asks softly, eyes darting between his brother and his sister-in-law. "Mind if we come in?"
"Oooh," Matt teases, muting the telly from his spot in the chair beside Freya's bed. "You're awful polite. Usually you're a cheeky little-"
"Matt," Freya frowns, which shuts him up as per usual. She soon turns a soft smile Owen's way. "Course you can, love. Never mind what that twat says."
Matt just sighs.
Owen steps inside, holding the door open for Emily before closing it after her.
"How you doing, Freya?" Emily asks, smile tentative, grip shifting on her flowers.
"Oh, those are bloody gorgeous, Em," she gushes, beaming tiredly at the sight of the flowers, which Emily neatly sets on the bedside table for her. "And I'm fine. Sore as fuck, mind you. This one produces giant fucking babies, apparently," she shoots Matt a playfully dirty look, to which he shrugs.
"It's either that or he ends up a short shit like his hobbit uncle-"
"Ah, give it a fuckin' rest, would you?" Owen groans, tilting his head back.
"Boys," Freya chides, crossing her arms. This time, it gets both brothers shutting up. "C'mere, Owen," she shifts a little, turning to the clear hospital crib on her lefthand side. "You've got someone who wants to meet you."
Carefully, she reaches in and scoops up the newborn, who snuffles a little in his sleep.
Emily smiles up at her boyfriend, rubbing his back as she nudges him closer. He stumbles a little, which gets Matt snorting, but he comes to a stop beside the bed, peering at the bundle in Freya's arms.
He's impossibly small, despite the couple mentioning that he's a bigger baby. He has a few tufts of dark hair like Freya's, and his nose looks like hers too. Has his dad's eyebrows though, Owen can't help but note with a little grin.
"Hiya, mate," he greets, a touch awkwardly, reaching out and brushing a finger along the back of his little hand. "Nice to finally meetcha."
The baby yawns, shifting in Freya's arms. "Owen, this is Lucas. Lucas, this is your uncle Owen."
Admittedly, Owen has to swallow back a lump in his throat at that. Matt, for once, doesn't tease him about it.
"We wanted you to be the first person to hold him," Matt says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly, "...y'know, other than Frey's mum and dad."
"Do you wanna?" Freya asks, smile warm. "No pressure, 'course, but we thought Uncle Owen might like to be next in line."
Owen blinks a few times, a touch startled at the prospect. Obviously, he'd assumed at some point he'd hold the baby, of course he had, but the reality of it is...
Emily squeezes his shoulder gently, jolting him back to the present.
"Er... yeah, yeah, go on then," he nods, watching his brother get up from the chair, gesturing for him to sit. Owen hands the gift bag to Emily and moves around to the other side of the bed, sitting down.
Matt takes Lucas into his arms, pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head before stopping in front of Owen, "Arms out, pillock," he hums, before leaning down, carefully transferring the baby into his arms. "Keep his head supported, alright? And if you drop him I'll kick your fuckin' cunt in-"
"I'm not gonna drop him!" Owen snaps back, shifting back in the chair and looking down at his nephew. A smile starts to curve at his lips. Lucas yawns again, squirming a touch in Owen's arms.
He's a little heavier than Owen had expected, a surprisingly solid weight in his arms.
"...don't think you're gonna fit into what I bought you, mate," Owen murmurs, smiling softly at the infant. "Might have to wait a little bit."
Matt arches a brow at that, to which Emily hands him the giftbag with a grin. He arches his brow higher, somehow, before lifting the tissue paper from the bag and peering inside.
He laughs, softer than his usual. Emily can only beam as he pulls out the tiny Mancester City strip, and Freya lets out a soft gasp, a smile curling at her lips.
"Thought you'd bring him the red," Matt sniffs, teasing. "Try and piss me off a bit."
"And subject the poor sod to a shite team? Never," Owen grins back, looking back down at the dozing Lucas. "I'd never do that to you, mate, promise. Your dad, on the other hand? Bit of a prick, so I'd do it to him."
"Oi," Matt warns, though there is a warmth in his smile, a dampness in his eyes. It isn't like the other Brompton to show such emotion so freely, but the little onesie, the sight of his brother holding his nephew... well, it's likely to tip the scales.
"Mum would love him," Owen speaks up softly after a moment, "Probably spoil him half to death and steal him from you pair for babysitting, though."
"Fuckin' undoubtedly," Matt snorts, coming around to stand by Owen's side, peering down at his son with a grin, "Your mum and I wouldn't have minded, though," he informs Lucas, fixing his blanket. "Give us more time to-"
"Matt."
"-watch footy and spend nice, lovely evenings in each other's company," he finishes innocently, a shit eating grin on his face despite Freya's scowl. "Mind outta the gutter, babe. There's a baby in the room."
"You're so lucky she doesn't kill you," Emily informs him, to which he shrugs.
"Loves me too much," he hums, ignoring the roll of Freya's eyes. "You two should know about that. Little lovebirds, ooooo," he taunts, grinning at his brother's pink cheeks.
"Give it a rest, wouldja?" Owen groans, shaking his head.
"Me? Never. I'm gonna tell little Lucas there about all the stupid shite his uncle's gotten up to and how to ask out a girl and not get wrong numbered."
"It wasn't a wrong number, fucks sakes!" Owen pouts, before his eyes slide over to Emily. "And besides, all worked out for the better anyway, didn't it?"
"I'd certainly like to think so," Emily grins at him, which Owen matches tenfold, brighter than the stars themselves.
Owen returns to looking at the baby, and Emily returns to quite contentedly watching him do so. Something warm brews and bubbles in her chest, something she doesn't quite understand yet.
But she will, eventually, as she watches Owen with his nephew over the years. She will come to understand this foreign longing that settles into her bones at the sight of Owen playing with Lucas, or swinging him around at the playpark, or even holding his hand to cross the street.
One day, Emily Raine will look down at two pink lines on a little plastic test she'd gotten from the pound shop a few doors down. And on that day she will feel nervous, terrified... and complete and utter joy.
One day.
