So I decided to finally write something after several eons of not doing so.
Actually that’s a lie but I doubt that a RDR2 fanfic would be well recieved two years after release.
Back on topic, have a drabble about Charles and the imminent arrival of his son that I scribbled while I was supposed to be working. Productivity.
Warnings: none really. asshole dads maybe?
Wordcount: 975 [i told you it was small]
Charles sat in his corner office, the days reports staring him down. His foot tapping a staccato rhythm against the mahogany wood. He had been through his fair share of surprises; stock crashes, worker strikes, system wide failure? No problem. But this? This was unprecedented and frankly ridiculous. If he had known she was going to spring this on him in two years he never would have married her. Emily had cornered him over dinner the night prior and unleashed the horrific news upon him.
“Charles, I”m pregnant”
What sort of surprise was that? He had neither the time or patience for a child. She know he wasn’t pleased with the prospect, he had done his best to let her know. She had burst into tears when he mentioned having one of his drivers take her to the clining this morning. The surgeon was on Thomas’ payroll so it wasn't anything to put this nonsense in the past and prescribe her something to prevent this in the future. But she had fought him so hard about it that he began to develop a migraine and let the matter drop. After the debacle when VIctoria had birthed a girl he found the very idea repulsive...that is if it were a girl, which Emily so dearly desired. A daughter to pamper and dress like a doll. He hadn’t had time to consider the possibility of a boy. Of course he would be expected to be a part of the firm, he could teach him how to gold for the intricacies of upper management. Charles eventually did relent on the idea. If it would get EMily to stop moping around the house sun up to sun down he was willing to put up with it. He was wholly disinterested in most anything having to do with it though. Emily tried her best to cajole him into going to appointments. As if he had the time to go see a writhing lump of flesh, he had better things to do than that. Still she insisted upon securing each of the printouts to the fridge, where he saw them every morning as he read the journal and sipped his coffee.
The gall of that woman. SHe was relentless. If she was going to force him to let her carry this to term she should at least give him the courtesy of letting him pretend it wasn’t happening. He could look past her emotions easily could remind himself she would return to her original shape within a year, but she still insisted on reminding him every moment she could that he was imminently becoming a father. THe audacity. It all came to a head the day of the birth. Charles was settled quite nicely into his work when he received a call, he watched it ring once, twice, three times before his secretary picked up. It was patched back to him within thirty seconds. He reluctantly picked up the receiver and continued typing
“Yes? Nichols speaking”
“Charles. It’s coming”
He internally cringed. He had hoped that he had a few more weeks before he had to go through this. He supposed he could continue to work remotely from the waiting room. He sighed and told his wife he would be there soon. He didn't see why she insisted he be there, the nursing staff wouldn't let him into the delivery suite anyway. It was a massive waste of his time. Sure he could pull the power card and be with EMily through his no problem but honestly did he want to? It was women's work. He had no desire to listen to her squall for hours on end, much less the rhythmic yet bored voices of the staff instructing her on how to breath and when to push. IT sounded barbaric and he wanted no part of it. He would suffer through using the clunky laptop to finish reports, thank you very much. They had booked a birthing suite three towns over with a private waiting room, and Charles was still uncomfortable within an hour. His reports were done and he had even logged next weeks minutes for the meeting with the investors from China. He now had nothing more he needed to work on and was unbearably bored. He paced, drank more coffee than he probably should have, attempted to flirt with a particularly attractive nurse whose only rebuttal was to ask him if he was nervous or if this was his first time as a father. He was beginning to wonder if he had lost his mojo. He sat back down and resigned himself to eat the candy bar he had purchased from a nearby vending machine when a nurse collected him and brought him to his wife. It was surprisingly quiet, Emily lay cooting at a small bundle she was cradling. He supposed this was it, straightened his tie, and strode confidently to her side. It was a boy, thankfully. A tiny pink being with so much black hair it was difficult to see his face from this angle. Emily informed him that their son had all of his fingers toes and so on. She had named him Adam James after only God knew whom and proceed to hand him over to Charles. He had absolutely no idea what to do with this tiny creature, and definitely did not like the way he had immediately grabbed his silk tie. Upon plucking it from his tiny hands the baby scrunched his face as tightly as his little muscles would allow and let out the most appalling screech Charles had ever heard. He quickly handed him back to his wife and sat in the chair opposite her. He could work this to his advantage but t geezus he would need a hell of a lot of headache medication.
Hey guys! This is my cat Charels N. Soup! The N. stands for noodles, and yes, you could techincally call him Chuck N. Soup but dont. Hes the best freindliest stupidest crosseyed boy and i love him very much. I wanna talk about him, or whatever so if youd like to send me an ask ill talk to you!
During my skype call, on of my friends started playing Henry Stickman: Fling the Fortress. Charles was one of the greatest characters in the game, I swear.
