Stay This Little - jack abbot x reader - drabble
Pairings: jack abbot x reader
Summary: A lazy morning with Jack & your tiny new baby boy !!
Warnings: mentions of post-partum/birth, talks of ER/ED, explicit language, TONS of fluff, a little angst, age-gap, slow burn, yearning/longing, soft dad! jack & medical inaccuracies.
Word Count: 1k+
Author’s Note: just a little drabble of dad! jack that’s been sitting in my brain for a few days !! <3
The early morning warmth clung to you after your shower, sleep still pulling at your eyes as you slid one of Jack’s t-shirts over your head. You did your best to wake yourself up—pulled your damp hair back and washed your face—a deep tiredness filled your body that felt like even eight uninterrupted hours couldn’t fix. But you wouldn’t have it any other way.
Jack was still asleep when you woke up, mouth parted and a similar exhaustion etched across his face. Still he looked relaxed, peaceful. You let him sleep in when you decided to shower, he needed it as much as you did; you knew he’d do the same for you without even a whisper of a second thought.
The steam from the shower engulfed you before dissipating as you opened the bathroom door to step out into the bedroom. Golden light spilled around the room. The faint smell of coffee. You stopped in your tracks at what you saw before you.
Jack was awake now—hair tousled with sleep as he laid in bed—the top half of his body propped up on pillows against the headboard. Your son laid curled up on his bare chest, impossibly tiny.
One of Jack’s large hands sat over the baby’s back, almost engulfing his small body completely. His other hand absentmindedly patted softly at your son’s bottom—almost instinctively, like he didn’t even need to think about it.
Your heart ached.
Feet shuffling across the room, you eased yourself back in bed, winching slightly at the sudden movement. Jack clocked it.
“You ok?”, He asked softly, brow furrowed and voice still deep and gravely.
You nodded; “Just still a little sore.”
He hummed softly in response, still watching you carefully; “How was your shower?”
“It felt amazing”, You breathed.
Post-partum was no joke, taking more out of you than you had originally thought. A body wide soreness that settled deep in your bones. The tiredness that joined it. But you took it in stride; you weren’t alone.
Jack was there. Every late night feeding; he was sitting up before you could move, scooping your son up to pass him carefully over to you. Midnight diaper changes? He was on it, prosthetic put back on at a speed he didn’t know he had in him; your son carefully balanced against him as he cooed softly to him.
If your son was wide awake at 3am? Jack happily stayed up with him, walking him down to the nursery and rocking him, patting his bottom softly again. He’d whisper stories about the two of you softly in his hair; stories from work that the tiny bundle against him had absolutely no clue what any of it meant. But that didn’t stop him from staring up at Jack with wide unfocused eyes. You’d found them both asleep in the rocking chair more than once.
Jack was there for it all.
Your hand brushed his arm as you settled back into the mattress, watching them with a swell in your heart and chest.
The tiny boy against Jack’s chest was half awake; teetering between sleep and full consciousness. His tiny brow furrowing every few moments as he looked at you with hazel eyes identical to his dad’s, trying hard to focus on you.
His mouth opening to an ‘o’ shape every so often—round, chubby cheek pressed against Jack’s chest. A tiny face that could only be described as being stolen directly from Jack, watching you intently.
Jack was quiet beside you, mouth and nose brushing softly over your son’s dark auburn hair; whisps of tiny curls tickling his skin. Ghosts of soft kisses being pressed against downy skin. He breathed in deeply, the smell only fresh newborn’s had invading his senses. He’d sit here all day if he could.
His eyes were distant, however, in that way they always were when he was thinking hard; looking at no specific spot in particular as he mindlessly kept rubbing softly against your son’s head; hand still patting his butt in sync.
“What’re you thinking about?”, You asked, hand running softly over his shoulder.
He snapped out of his daze, eyes darting up to you in a quick motion before he furrowed his brows. You couldn’t help noticing how much he looked the baby doing the same against his chest.
“It’s just…”, He sighed; “Nothing it’s probably stupid, nevermind.”
“Jack”, You say softly, “Come on, honey, you can tell me.”
He huffed again, his eyes glossy now.
“Just…someday he’s not gonna be small enough to lay here like this with me anymore…or he won’t want to.”
His voice is barely a whisper at the last part.
The look on his face breaks your heart into pieces.
“Oh baby”, You coo, thumb softly rubbing over his cheek; “He’s a week old. He’s not going anywhere.”
Jack didn’t answer right away, the look still etched on his face did the talking for him.
Eventually he huffed again; “He’s already bigger, heavier too.”
You couldn’t help but laugh; “By like a few ounces, maybe an inch.”
“That’s halfway to being taller than me.”
The smile on your face doesn’t waver as you run your hands through his salt and pepper curls.
“He loves his daddy so much already. I promise you, and that’s not going to change. Not even when he gets older. He’ll just show you in different ways”, You tell him, voice still soft.
Jack grunts, seemingly still dissatisfied by the idea of his baby getting any bigger.
“It might not always be by laying on your chest, but in other ways as he grows”; You squeeze his chin gently between your finger and thumb; “By tossing the ball around in the backyard, riding bikes with you. Holding your hand while walking, sitting on your shoulders. Asking you for help with girls and tying his first tie, asking you to tie his shoes and teach him how drive. It might be different things, but it’ll all be showing the same thing.”
Jack’s silent, breathing soft and lifting your son still cuddled on his chest ever so slightly.
“You’re too good at that, you know”, He mumbles.
“I try”, you shrug, but the smile on your face widens; “You’d do the same for me.”
He looks at you fully now, eyes tracing your face before he leans in carefully, pressing his lips softly against yours with a content sigh.
“I love you, so much. Thank you”, He mumbles against your lips.
He doesn’t need to voice what he’s thanking you for; for you, for giving him the tiny boy on his chest, for reassuring him—for all of it.
“I love you too.”
A dissatisfied noise comes from your son, making you both look down at him. He’s fully awake now, hazel eyes dancing over both of your faces.
“We love you too, tiny”, You coo, brushing a soft kiss against one of his round cheeks.
You run a finger over the skin there, still soft and squishy, delicate.
His covered hands smack softly against Jack’s chest, his face rubbing against his skin as he tries desperately to lift his head up enough to look up at Jack.
Jack moves on instinct, cupping the back of the small boy’s neck to help him, smiling when their eyes connect on each other. The baby squealing and cooing to itself in a language only he could understand.
“Hi buddy”, Jack coos back, “Just wanted some attention, huh? Daddy’s got you, bub.”
He lets a beat pass and then; “Promise you’ll slow down with growing a little, ‘kay? You’re gonna make your old man keel over before he’s ready.”
The baby grunts as if he’s agreeing.
You laugh; “He’s still gonna grow, Jack.”
A mischievous smile spreads on his face, and you can see the moment the thought pops into his head as he shrugs.
“Guess we’ll just have to have another then.”
You smack his arm playfully; “Only if you keep holding them like this.”
Sitting curled up next to him like that, watching him cradle your son on his chest so carefully and with enough love for a lifetime; you’d give him twenty more babies if he asked.
Content with the two boys next to you—you curls up under the covers and rest against Jack—cuddling into his warmth as he drapes one of his arms around you and pulls you closer, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. You run your fingers over your son’s cheek again, watching him look up at Jack with wide and unfocused eyes—and decide yeah, the rest of the world outside can wait.
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