sick bug
Silas is ill with a bug.
Warnings: As usual, Nathan is his own warning, but mentions of throw up so emetophobia warning. Mentions of breastfeeding (a fed baby is a happy baby, whether bottle or breast). One mention of Nathan drinking and being hungover. Slightly proofread. Word count: 1,296 F!Reader, no use of Y/N.
Yet another dad!Nathan one shot (this is the last one I have planned for now). A part of the same universe as Shut up, Kid and Bluey! but can also be a stand-alone.
You sigh tiredly as you walk into the kitchen, Silas plastered to your chest and gripping your shirt tightly with his little fists, where he was still fighting sleep after a restless night. He had barely eaten anything this morning, only managing half a slice of toast before he had cried for you again. You gave up any other sort of food for him and took him in your arms, letting him nurse from you, the only comfort he seems to want (you were more than willing to give it to him). Nathan was pouring you a cup of coffee, feeling like you need it after the 12 hours you’d had (you wish you could inhale cup after cup, but the thought of pumping and dumping gives you hives).
“He settled?” Nathan asks, passing you the cup as he glanced at Silas, his dark eyes looking at his son with concern.
“Just about,” you mutter, taking the cup and having a sip as you lightly sway Silas.
You’d been up all night with your son; he’d been hit with some sort of sickness bug and had you up from midnight, where he had started screaming before immediately throwing up in his crib. Nathan had a meeting in the afternoon, so you’d taken your son and tried to settle him, but after a while you just ended up in the living room, trying to settle him with water and snuggles on the couch. Silas – thankfully – stopped throwing up at about 4am, and had fought sleep ever since, just wanting to be with (on) you, with your breast in his mouth at all times.
You feel dead on your feet as you drink your coffee, but you daren’t take a seat. The moment you stop moving, Silas will scream the place down again. You continue to sway, almost putting yourself in a trance as you drink your coffee.
“You look like shit.”
“Thanks,” you deadpan, ignoring his cursing. You’re too tired to even scold him for it.
“I’ll take him,” Nathan says, taking a step towards you. “You go and sleep.”
“You have the board meeting today – “
“Already cancelled it,” he said, gently wrapping his hands around Silas to lift him from you.
Your shoulders sag in relief as Nathan takes Silas. As soon as the kid knows what’s happening, he immediately starts to cry, stretching his arms out to you as big, fat tears roll down his cheeks. Soon he’s openly sobbing, his voice hoarse from all the crying he’d already done.
It breaks your heart, but you need to go and sleep.
“Mama loves you sweetie, but I need to go to bed,” you say to Silas, wiping his tears away as Nathan holds him. “You’ll get lots of cuddles from dada.”
Silas continues to cry as you give Nathan a quick peck before you disappear quickly towards your bedroom. Out of sight, out of mind (in Silas’s case, anyway).
Nathan felt Silas’s forehead, satisfied that the kid didn’t have a fever, but picked up the bottle of Tylenol just in case. He got a sippy cup and filled it with water, before looking at Silas. “Come on bud, let’s go sit down,” Nathan says gently, before walking from the kitchen into the living room, medicine and sippy cup in his hand free hand. “We can watch some Bluey, huh? We like Bluey.”
Silas’s cries soon turned into small whimpers as Nathan places the cup and medicine down within reach and grabs a blanket that was bundled up on the other side of the couch, which was coincidentally hiding Silas’s favourite pacifier (which was promptly placed in Silas’s mouth). Nathan gets them both settled on the couch wrapped in the soft blanket, which faintly smelled of you and Silas, before turning the TV on, switching to Bluey.
Silas goes quiet from his place on Nathan’s lap, laying his head against father’s shoulder as he watches the TV, his eyes still watery from unshed tears. After a few moments, he subconsciously reaches up and threads his fingers through Nathan’s beard, just holding on lightly. Nathan was used to it, and it comforted the kid. It wasn’t like it hurt. Silas did the same with your hair when it was in reach.
After a while, Nathan stroked Silas’s back lightly, finding his own comfort in the closeness of his son. He never thought he’d be doing this; being a dad, sat on the TV and watching a cartoon of a family of dogs. He didn’t see his life going in this direction, settling down and having kids, and Hell, he even enjoys it. It wasn’t until he met you that he even started thinking about these things.
Nathan gives a small huff through his nose as he takes out the pacifier and offers Silas some water from the sippy cup, which the kid accepts, taking a few sips as his eyes don’t leave the TV screen. The kid looks just as exhausted as you.
“You feelin’ better, kid?” Nathan said to Silas before turning back to the TV. “Been there bud. Before I had you, when you were just swimmin’ around in my nutsack, before you were even a possibility, I had killer hangovers all the time. Your mom hated it, she always had to tidy up my shit after. It’s not the same, but it still didn’t feel great.”
Silas doesn’t even react as he held the sippy cup in his hands, watching the TV. Wordlessly, Nathan took the cup back and placed the pacifier back in Silas’s mouth. It wasn’t a few seconds later that Silas buried himself back into Nathan’s shoulder, watching Bluey again, his fingers curling back into Nathan’s beard.
Nathan went back to stroking Silas’s back for a while, but he soon felt Silas suddenly get heavier. He looks down and sees that his son had fallen asleep, his restless night finally catching up with him. Nathan lightly chuckled to himself, before releasing Silas’s fingers from his beard and trying not to jostle Silas too much as he manoeuvred the kid into a more comfortable position.
He freezes for a moment when Silas makes a small noise of protest, but Nathan relaxes as his son settles back down.
Nathan just stares at him for a few moments, still baffled that this kid, this kid, was his. His journey into unexpected love and fatherhood had been a tangled web of conflicting emotions, and challenging, to put it nicely. And he wouldn’t change a Goddamn thing about it. As a man who was engrained in his own brilliance and seclusion, he never foresaw himself entangled in such human...complexities. He made this kid, and not with his genius, or in his lab (although the opportunity was there). He made this kid with you.
Fuck, he loves you so much he willingly made a kid with you.
He sighs in content as he sits back on the couch, his head leaning on the back of it. He closes his eyes, happy to just sit and feel the rise and fall of Silas breathing against his chest.
Hours later, you emerge from the bedroom with a yawn, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. It's suspiciously quiet. You were half expecting the sounds of an upset infant. You walk towards the living room, where you pause, your heart melting at the sight.
Nathan was fast asleep on the couch, his head hanging over the back, his hands securely on Silas’s back as the kid sleeps against Nathan’s chest, one hand in Nathan’s beard, the other curled up towards his own chest. Bluey was still playing on the TV at a low volume.
You snap a quick photo, giggling quietly to yourself. You deem it Nathan’s newest desktop wallpaper.
