make it up as we go along
Summary: “It would mean the world to me if you could occupy the menace for two minutes, please .”
“The menace ,” he repeats, amused. “What’s got you all fired up tonight, huh?” he asks Julie, soothing his hand up and down her back.
She babbles in response to him, and he, as always, reacts like she’s holding a deeply intelligent conversation with him.
“Ah,” he ponders. “Understandable. I’d be a wreck in your situation too.”
A domestic evening with Eddie and your baby girl. She has a very specific request of her dad.
Tags: Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Parenthood, Dad!Eddie Munson, Soft Eddie Munson, Alternate Universe - No Upside Down
Words: 3.2k
The apartment is loud with the usual end-of-day chaos. Never quite explosive, but never peaceful either.
You’re crouched awkwardly on the floor beside the coffee table, a small pile of clean laundry still warm beside you and Julie’s teensy pants stretched over your knee, the torn seam stubbornly refusing to cooperate. The needle is dull, the thread keeps tangling, and your back aches from hunching over various chores all day.
Julie, the ever-lovely baby that she is, has decided that the floor isn’t interesting enough and is currently doing her best to climb up your back like a jungle gym, sticky hands grabbing at your shoulders.
“Sweetheart, please,” you mumble, gently nudging her off with your elbow. “Just two more minutes. Let me fix your pants and then you can tackle me, okay?”
Julie responds with a shriek and thuds down on her butt, immediately reaching for one of the brightly colored wooden blocks she isn’t supposed to throw— and, of course, throws it.
You sigh, teeth clenched around a muttered, “You’ve gotta be kidding me,” just as the front door opens with a click and a familiar set of heavy boots step inside. “Oh, thank you, Jesus,” you whisper, grateful for the extra set of hands. And, you suppose, grateful for your adoring husband in general.
“Where are my girls?” Eddie calls out, traipsing into the living room, and finding Julie making another attempt to scale you. She lights up when she sees him, like she always does, and it makes your heart soar. “Oh, come here,” he coos, scooping her up into his arms. “You givin’ your mama hell?”
“Can you please just—” you cut yourself off with a sharp squeak in pain, as you accidentally prick the needle into the tip of your finger. “ God damnit ,” you mutter.
“You good?”
“I’m fine!” you answer, voice tight. You just need to finish one thing today. You shake your hand out and continue pulling the thread through the cotton, your stitches nowhere near perfect but definitely functional. “It would mean the world to me if you could occupy the menace for two minutes, please .”
“ The menace ,” he repeats, amused. “What’s got you all fired up tonight, huh?” he asks Julie, soothing his hand up and down her back.
She babbles in response to him, and he, as always, reacts like she’s holding a deeply intelligent conversation with him.
“Ah,” he ponders. “Understandable. I’d be a wreck in your situation too.”
“What is she telling you?” you laugh, shaking your head, eyes never leaving the fabric in front of you.
“Don’t you worry about it,” he brushes you off, ultra-seriously. “Secrets to Dad. Nothing that concerns you.”
You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Great. It’s already starting.”
Eddie grins as Julie grabs a fistful of his shirt and launches into another string of nonsense syllables, her tone somewhere between excited and scandalized.
“She says,” Eddie leans in conspiratorially, voice low and serious, “that she requested the blue sippy cup and you gave her the green one .”
You let out a dry laugh. “Oh, well. My mistake. Shall I resign now, or later?”
“Up to you, but you’ve clearly lost her trust,” he says, bouncing her gently in his arms. “We’ll be holding interviews for your replacement first thing tomorrow.”
Julie lets out a squawk, flinging one arm dramatically toward you. Eddie gasps. “Oh, you still love her ?” He presses a kiss to her temple. “That’s big of you, kid. Real mature.”
“I’m so honored,” you mutter, knotting the thread and biting off the end with your teeth. “Love from the same baby who tried to eat lint off the carpet an hour ago.”
“She’s an adventurous soul,” Eddie says, lifting her higher and nuzzling her cheek, which earns him a giggle and a satisfied kick to the stomach. “Hey, okay, chill. I'm not a trampoline.”
Julie squeals again, wriggling.
“Alright, alright, you got needs. I get it,” he coos. “But you gotta work with me, sweetheart. Is it food? Diaper? Existential dread?”
“She just ate,” you call over, squinting at the hem of the pants. “And I changed her right before I sat down. So if it’s dread, she inherited that from you.”
“Ha,” he says, smirking. “Nah, she definitely got your death glare. She hit me with it yesterday; I swear it was like… spitting image.”
You fight the grin breaking out on your face.
Julie grunts and leans aggressively to one side in his arms, reaching for something unseen. He spins in a slow circle. “You seeing ghosts again, kid? What’re we aiming for?”
“I swear, she’s got the attention span of a—”
“Of a mini me?” he supplies. “She’s just like me, huh?”
You bark out a laugh. “Nope. Not gonna say it. She’s perfect.”
“Mmhm. That’s what I thought.” Eddie walks over and crouches beside you, Julie now clinging to his shoulder like a baby koala. “How’s it coming?”
You sigh, letting your shoulders sag. “Almost done. I just… God, I don’t know why today was so hard. She didn’t even scream that much.”
“She doesn’t have to scream,” he says, gently nudging your shoulder with his. “She just has to exist. And you, my love, exist so hard all day long. So now you’re wiped. Which is allowed.”
You blink down at the thread in your hands. “That sounded like an insult.”
“It was a compliment. In tired-parent dialect.”
You huff a laugh and nudge him back. “Well, thank you. I think.”
“Anytime.” He kisses the top of your head, then lifts Julie slightly. “And you, young lady, are going to bed the second your mother finishes those pants. You hear me?”
Julie blows a raspberry in response.
Eddie looks at you, deadpan. “She said no.”
You sigh. “Great. Fired and overruled. What a day.”
Julie starts wriggling with renewed determination, tiny legs kicking against Eddie’s ribs as she thrusts one arm outward and chirps, “Ba! Ba ba ba!”
Eddie glances in the direction she’s pointing, roughly toward the bookshelf, or maybe the plant stand, or maybe nothing at all. “What the hell does ba ba ba mean?” he mutters. “That’s gotta be super secret baby code for something. Babe, help me out here.”
You don’t look up from the final stitch you’re tugging into place. “You’re the one she trusts with all her secrets, remember?”
“Right,” he mutters, shifting Julie to his other arm. “Okay. Ba ba ba. Is that bottle? Are you thirsty?” He mimics drinking from an imaginary cup, which earns him a blank stare and then another emphatic, “Ba!”
“Nope. Not bottle,” he confirms. “Book? You want a book?” He gestures toward the bookshelf.
Julie puffs up like she might explode with the sheer injustice of being misunderstood. “BA. BA. BA!!”
“Jesus, alright, okay, don’t yell at me, I’m trying!” Eddie protests, bouncing her lightly. “You’re being really unclear for someone so bossy.”
You tie off the last knot and finally lift your head, watching your little tyrant direct Eddie’s every movement from his arms. And then, suddenly, you freeze, a small laugh catching in your throat.
“Wait… ba ba ba ?” you say, sitting up straighter.
Eddie’s eyes flick to you. “Yeah. She’s chanting it like a little cult member. You got a theory?”
“Oh my God,” you giggle. “I know what she wants.”
Eddie whips his head around to look at you. “Please tell me, because she’s about to flip this whole operation.”
“She wants you,” you say, smirking, “to play guitar.”
He frowns. “She wants me to—”
“And sing Barbara Ann,” you finish, pointing at her with your needle like you’ve just cracked a case wide open. “That’s what she’s saying. Ba ba ba, Barbara Ann .”
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, then turns to her. “Are you serious right now? You want a concert? You’ve been here fifteen months and you already run this house?”
Julie gurgles something that sounds suspiciously like victory.
“I did play it the other night,” he says slowly, glancing over at his beat-up acoustic in the corner. “She did kind of go nuts for it.”
“I thought you’d be flattered.”
“I would be, if she wasn’t so goddamn demanding about it.”
Julie claps once, then shouts, “BA!!!”
He chuckles and drops a kiss to the top of her head. “Alright, alright. Don’t hurt yourself.” He sighs theatrically, crossing the room to grab the guitar. “Who am I to deny our little queen her Beach Boys fix?”
He carefully sets Julie down in the center of the rug, where she immediately plops onto her diapered butt, eyes wide and waiting like an audience in a sold-out stadium.
“Okay, but if you spit up on my fretboard again, we’re done,” he warns her as he tunes quickly. Then he grins at you. “You’re in luck, too. This’ll buy us like three minutes of peace.”
“Oh, you’re spoiling me,” you say, finally setting the patched pants aside with a satisfied sigh.
Eddie strums a chord, then leans into the imaginary mic in front of him. “Ladies and gentlemen… introducing the hit single of the century…”
Julie wiggles in place, her chubby little hands already up.
He launches into it, voice warm and playful: “ Ba ba ba, ba Barbara Ann …”
Julie lets out a wild shriek of delight, immediately launching into a full-bodied bounce, flapping her arms and swaying like a tipsy wedding guest. You can’t help but laugh, watching her little face light up like a disco ball.
“Look at her go,” you murmur, leaning your head against the arm of the couch.
“She’s got moves,” Eddie says between lines, keeping the rhythm easy and loose as he watches her with pure adoration.
Julie claps, offbeat and enthusiastic, singing her own version of the chorus—mostly just “ba ba BA!”—and falling over onto her side in a heap of giggles. Eddie keeps playing, barely missing a beat as he watches her roll back onto her hands and knees, haul herself upright again, and resume her chaotic dance.
Eddie continues into the second verse, “Tried Peggy Sue, tried Peggy Lou, tried Mary Lou, but I knew she wouldn’t do…”
“And now who are these women you’re talking about trying, my love?” you tease him, in mock accusation.
He laughs, stumbling over the next chorus, but it doesn’t matter.
Julie spins in a lopsided circle, arms flailing like she’s performing for thousands. She almost topples over, then steadies herself and shouts, “BAAA!”
“She’s calling for her backup dancer,” Eddie teases, throwing you a pointed look over the top of his guitar. “I believe that’s your cue.”
You groan, flopping back against the cushions. “No, no, I’m dead. D-E-A-D. Let the record show that I patched the pants. I’ve fulfilled my maternal duties for the day.”
“C’mon, just a little boogie,” he coaxes, singing another line with extra flair. “ Ba ba ba, ba Barbara Ann… ”
Julie shrieks in approval, clearly believing he’s talking to her.
“See? She’s asking so nicely.”
You roll your eyes and try not to smile. “You’re relentless.”
“But this you knew already. Part of my charm,” he says, winking.
You stay still a second longer, then finally sigh, dragging yourself upright. “Fine. But only because if she wears herself out, I might get to sleep before midnight.”
“That’s the spirit,” Eddie beams.
You push away from the coffee table with an exaggerated groan and shuffle to the middle of the rug beside Julie. She immediately reaches for your hands, squealing with glee when you scoop her up into your arms and give her a lazy little bounce-bounce that sends her into a giggle fit.
Eddie watches the two of you, soft and glowing, still playing as he slows the tempo a little, just enough to keep the rhythm going while letting the moment stretch. “Now that’s stage presence,” he murmurs.
“She takes after her dad,” you say quietly, looking up at him over Julie’s wild curls.
“Hell yeah she does,” he grins, then leans into the last chorus, drawing it out like it’s some sweet lullaby: “You got me rockin’ and a rollin’, rockin’ and a reelin’ Barbara Ann …”
Julie’s movements slow gradually, her babbling starting to soften into happy hums. Her eyes flutter half-closed even as she bounces, forehead eventually tipping forward onto your chest.
You meet Eddie’s eyes again, both of you frozen in place for a second, as if afraid to breathe and ruin the spell.
“She’s fading,” you whisper.
“Victory is ours,” he whispers back, setting the guitar down soundlessly and rising to his feet.
Together, you carry her through the warm hush of the hallway, the practiced choreography of bedtime moving in gentle, quiet steps. Diaper, jammies, the soft light of her nightlight casting animal shapes on the wall.
Eddie smooths her hair back while you settle her into the crib, and she lets out one last, sleep-drunk “ ba… ” before sighing into her blanket.
You both stand there a minute longer, shoulder to shoulder, just watching her.
“I don’t care what anyone says,” he murmurs, wrapping an arm around your waist, “that’s our best work.”
You lean your head on his shoulder and smile. “Even if she yells at you in Beach Boys lyrics?”
“Especially because of that.”
You laugh, quietly, and together you tiptoe back down the hallway toward the couch, the echo of music and baby laughter still warm in the walls.
Eddie flicks off the overhead light, leaving only the dim lamp near the couch glowing gold against the walls, and when he sits down, you immediately collapse beside him, stretching out and laying your head in his lap with a sigh that comes from somewhere deep in your bones.
His hand finds your hair instantly, fingers combing through it with no real rhythm, just that easy, grounding affection that he never has to think about anymore.
“Tell me something boring,” you murmur, your voice muffled in the fabric of his shirt.
“Boring?” he chuckles, still twirling a loose strand. “Oh, you want the full report on carburetors and coolant leaks, huh?”
“Hit me with it,” you say. “Give me that sweet, sweet mechanic talk.”
He laughs again, low and warm. “Alright, well, today was a festival of disasters. Mikey stripped a bolt on an alternator and blamed the tools, and then one of the regulars came in swearing her brakes were haunted. I told her I’d perform an exorcism for an extra forty bucks.”
You snort, eyes closed. “You would.”
“I was kidding,” he says, mock-offended. “She laughed. And then said she’d think about it.”
You hum, already half-drifting. “Did you fix it?”
“Yeah. Turns out the ghost was just a rock stuck behind the pad.” His hand moves gently along the curve of your temple. “What about you two?” he asks, voice gentler now. “I know you said it was rough.”
“Yeah,” you murmur, “she was fine. I think she just needed more attention than I had the energy for.”
“She always wants you,” he says softly.
“She wants both of us,” you correct, then panic flares through you. “I don’t mean— sorry, that wasn’t to make you feel bad,” you tell him, clunky and tired. “She’s… I just want to make sure that you know how much she loves you.”
Eddie’s fingers still for just a second, and then he cups the side of your head, thumb brushing gently behind your ear. “Hey,” he says softly, leaning over a little so you’ll look up at him. “I know that. I know.”
You blink, suddenly a little overwhelmed, even in the soft hush of the room. “I just— sometimes I say stuff and I hear it after, and I worry it sounds like I’m... I don’t know. Blaming you for not being here.”
His face softens even more. “You don’t need to explain. I get it.”
You reach up and curl your fingers in the fabric of his shirt, holding on like you’re worried you’ve messed everything up with one sleepy, clumsy sentence. “It’s just hard,” you admit quietly. “Some days, it feels like all I do is count the hours ‘til you’re home. And then you walk in, and she lights up like the Fourth of July, and I— God , I’m so glad, but I also feel like I’m about to fall over.”
Eddie nods, his other hand now smoothing down your arm, grounding you. “I think about you two all damn day,” he says. “Every time I have to crawl under a car, I’m thinking about how I’m gonna wrench my back and you’ll be stuck with me limping around like I’m eighty. Or I’m checking the time, wondering if she’s napping or trying to climb the kitchen cabinets.”
“She did try that today,” you mutter.
He lets out a quiet laugh. “See? I knew it.”
There’s a pause. He looks at you with that particular kind of tenderness he reserves for just his two girls. “It’s hard being away. I hate it. I miss all the little stuff. I miss you.”
Your throat goes tight. You sit up slowly, shifting into his arms, and he wraps you in them without hesitation, tucking your head beneath his chin. You press your face into the crook of his neck and stay there for a beat, breathing in the grease and soap and home that is Eddie.
“She did this thing today,” you say softly, a smile curling into your voice. “She was chewing on that little wooden ring toy, and I looked at her and said, ‘Julie, what are you doing?’ And she just looked me dead in the eye, took it out of her mouth, and offered it to me. Like, ‘ here, Mom. You try .’”
He laughs quietly against your hair. “Kind of her to include you.”
“Right,” you mumble, smiling. “But I took it. Bit the damn thing and everything.”
“You did not,” he says, pulling back to look at you, eyes crinkling. “Ewwwwwwwww.”
“I did! What was I supposed to do? She was so proud.”
Eddie shakes his head, his smile soft and crooked. “You’re such a sucker.”
“For her? Yeah. And so are you.”
“No argument there,” he murmurs, brushing his lips to your temple. “You know who’s the biggest sucker, though?” You hum. “Wayne. Dinner with him tomorrow night, remember.”
“He’s gonna lose it when he sees her,” you say eventually, your voice warm again. “She’s got that little tutu he gave her last time. I was gonna put her in it.”
Eddie groans dramatically. “He’s gonna cry. You know he’s gonna cry.”
You smile, eyes already heavy again. “She really loves him.”
“Yeah,” Eddie murmurs. “She’s got good taste.”
He rocks you slightly, just enough to keep you from falling asleep right there on the couch. “Maybe we’ll get him to hold her long enough that we can finish a hot meal for once.”
“Oh my God,” you whisper dramatically. “A full dinner. Without interruption. Do you think it’s possible?”
He kisses your cheek. “With enough mashed potatoes? Anything’s possible.”
Author's note: Hi! Sorry I've been gone for a month! I'm working on how dare you want more, as well as several other works (or course).
This is probably the fluffiest thing I've ever written. Loved writing this one, and I've already started on some other entries in this universe. As always, let me know what you think! <3
And a reminder that you can also find me over on ao3!