Wainwright Jakobs/Alistair Hammerlock & Adopted child!Reader: A damn fine marksman!
not quite adopted yet but... it was a fun little something to write i hope it turned out alright because i still suck at getting the way characters talk right when i write in english
as a bonus i wanna add that i think that as well as hammerlock carried this out and as highly as winny holds him he's the more nervous and stern parent here. the kind that needs to lie down if something goes wrong during the son's birthday preparations
RQ for @wainwrightjakobshammerlock
AO3:https://archiveofourown.org/works/62122579
SFW, one-shot, reader is a phrogger lol, transmasc reader (he/they, masc terms), lightly implied transman!Wainwright and transman!Alistair, mild fluff
Wainwright had always been convinced that Alistair would have made a great father, and it wasn't just his undying affection for his now - thank Lord - husband that told him that. Even though Hammerlock was always dismissing the thought and jokingly complained about his burning dislike of Claptrap every time the subject suddenly came up, Wainwright couldn't but smile knowingly. Claptrap is Claptrap, children are children, and his husband is a fine man, and he knew that better than anyone else.
There was something about his personality. At the very least he was a little more suave and patient than he was. And his somewhat complicated at times relationship with his father made Jakobs question himself being able to play the role of a dad, the mere thought of how much power that word held over another human, the one in need, gave him a bitter taste in his mouth and made his palms sweat unpleasantly.
Though, what was he on about? Family was a rather tricky subject for both of them, fathers or not, and a lot had happened these years for Alistair as well. Of course, being heirs of big families, kids were always something expected out of them but many rather different turmoils at various stages of life never called for it. So this topic had been under the veil of uncertainty in their relationship for quite some time, and it had been agreed to be put off until they were both fully ready. The only thing he’d always been sure of is they’ll manage, with the help of the Vault Hunters or not.
Not that a child was necessary for a marriage to be “right," of course. There was never such thing as "right" for him and their love already seemed so wrong on several levels to some that it would probably make them turn crimson with exertion and pop like a red hot cyst - and saurian gore him, if he wasn't proud of it!
As had been the case for many, many years now, life had slightly different plans than Wainwright himself. First the Calypsos had nearly destroyed his family honor and what was left of his family altogether, then his wedding had become something out of a dark novel, now... there was a brash boy standing right in front of him. A kid, barely older than seventeen or eighteen, though he couldn’t really tell. But there was such spite and determination in those eyes! An age-inappropriate cocktail of emotions, or so it seemed to him, for he hadn't been a youngster for many decades, but the sad thoughts about what might have influenced that were overshadowed by a slight irritated pang at the moment.
Oh how he didn't like pointing guns at young people, but he had absolutely no choice in this situation! When he and Hammerlock had returned back to the family estate, which had been taken from the clutches of a harpy named Aurelia Hammerlock, during the restoration of the dwelling to its former grandeur, he had long felt as if something ill had taken up residence in the house. At first he'd thought it was just the walls still remembering and bearing the burden of what had happened, but when relics that had been returned to their rightful place began to disappear and end up in unexpected places, and the freshly installed cameras each time ended up with bullets right through the middle of them, he was sure someone was absolutely living in their family nest right under their noses. And it wasn’t just his poor eyesight playing tricks on him.
The little experience hunting vermin, especially one-armed rats, in his own home he’d acquired allowed him to quickly catch up with the phrogger who'd slipped up and caught his eye this morning. Besides, you were running with a rather weighty bag before being cornered with your back against the wall of the first floor of the library.
“Identify yourself, young man, or you'll have more holes in you than Swiss cheese in no time,” Wainwright said calmly enough, despite the threat and a literal shotgun pointed right at your chest.
Much to his surprise you actually introduced yourself, even though you bristled at the request. Jakobs nodded and squinted at the amber bottle of pricey bourbon you held in one of the upraised hands, then glanced at a few more caps sticking out of the bag. The sheer audacity of it!
"And what, pray tell, are you intending on doing with all that? I highly doubt you'll be drinking any!"
"I'm selling all eight bottles," eight! Eight bottles of his finest liquor! You gave a casual shrug and snorted. "Why? You don't need that much, mister, you've got plenty of money, and there's only two of you, not counting the servants. You can buy more, but I've got to live on something."
Indeed, he had plenty of money, especially after taking over Jakobs. To be frank, the fact that he and his husband had had an intruder in the house for this long, and even the staff had a vague idea of your existence because of the sheer size of the estate, made Wainwright start to redden in the ears. How absurd.
That you were here at all could only mean one thing - you had started living here around the time the COV had taken over the house, when there were no more guards around. Considering the storm the twins had wreaked on Eden-6 and the other planets, Wainwright assumed that maybe you were one of the many orphans the evil gods were guilty of.
"Ahem... And how much and of what have you sold so far?"
You raised your eyebrows at the question and thought for a moment.
"A dozen more bottles from the wine cellar... A tea set and silverware from the cupboard in the dining room... The gold trim on the shelves of the cupboard in the dining room... A phonograph from the study on the second floor,” you grinned slightly as you remembered one more thing. "Oh, and some of your father's old diaries from the attic."
Wainwright's heart fell to his stomach, it felt like.
Before he put his earlier threat into action, another voice came from the doorway above.
"Winny! What's all the commotion? What's happening?"
Alistair. He’d probably heard the first warning shot Jakobs had fired in the hall and all the running around, so he'd stopped tanning hide for the new mount in his personal workshop at the other end of the house and came running as fast as he could, still wearing his work apron.
Oh, Alistair. Wainwright wasn't even sure how much his husband's presence would help him right now. Well, he'd already helped you a hell of a lot, that's for sure, because a second more and you'd have a pretty new hole in you. Or five. Perhaps it's for the best he was here.
"Winny, what's the occasion..? Who's that?" Hammerlock finally rushed down the stairs and leaned in close to his ear, speaking in a half-whisper. He looked you over from head to toe with visible interest, noting the obviously hungry and disheveled state.
"This, my love, is the rascal who's been terrorizing our very home for a couple of months now! And today I finally caught him red-handed! And you know what he tells me? He's selling my father's possessions!"
"Ah!” Hammerlock pulled away from Wainwright's shoulder with equal indignation, and frowned, putting the prosthetic to his heart. "Now that is a serious offense. There must be a good reason for such a thing, otherwise it's beyond inexcusable!"
"Alistair, of course it is..."
"Please, Winny. The young man's lived here long enough eating our food, I'm guessing it's not essential to them in the least. So it must be something else completely,” Hammerlock stopped him with a wave of a firm hand and looked sternly at you. "Well? Why would such a young man need so much money? I’d advise you to speak to make matters easier for all of us. Winny may be a poor shot but I assure you I won’t miss."
You flinched and lowered your head. The attitude of these men toward each other made you feel more at ease. And also a bit guilty, regrettably.
"Eh… To pay for medical treatment..?"
Alistair and Wainwright looked at each other in silence. They had a vague idea of what kind, hit close to home. But they weren’t quick to jump to conclusions - not that it mattered in the slightest at this moment!
"Darling, may I have a moment with you?" Hammerlock whispered.
"Come, come. I assure you, the lad won't be going anywhere in that amount of time,” he raised his eyes to you, and his voice became sterner again. "Isn't that right?"
You sighed. What else was there to do? The servants around the house already knew something was going on. "Yes, sir."
Wainwright had no choice but to comply either and, with his eyes in your direction, stepped back behind one of the bookshelves with his husband.
"What's the matter, Alistair?"
"Winny, I cannot do this... I realize how much these things are worth to you, but I've been thinking and maybe... It's a foolish thought, of course, but...” Hammerlock suddenly hesitated, putting his hands together, and his earlier attitude waned slightly. “Perhaps it's a sign of sorts?"
"I know we haven't made up our minds about children, and you don't have to if you have no such desire, but I believe it's our chance to make someone's life a tad better. Or much better. And quite possibly make someone more fotunate in terms of family than we were ourselves. To give them a sense of acceptance, a home they're not ashamed to return to. They’ve been residing here with us all this time anyway, so it’s not much different, no?"
Wainwright sighed. Redemption and healing...
"I see your point. But how can you be so sure the boy will say yes?"
"There's no harm in asking, is there?"
"Well, I s’pose you're right."
“Oh, and Winny? You have my word we’ll get your father’s possessions back from wherever they might’ve ended up.”
“Didn’t even have to say it outloud, my love.”
To the great surprise of both of them, you did stay where you were. Except now you turned away, eyeing the books on the shelves with keen interest. Both immediately noticed - what a sweet irony - a Jakobs-issued hunting rifle hanging on your back. In excellent condition, it should be noted. That was the answer to what brought down all the perimeter security cameras in the house. A bullet for each camera-- Not half bad! You had an untapped talent. Well, a lot of untapped talents, given the elusiveness and a knack for stealing.
"I daresay you fancy gunsmanship?" Alistair inquired in his usual tone, making you grin. Hammerlock himself hummed, satisfied with the prompt answer. "In that case, would you like to join us hunting today? We can move the conversation about how we go about this to a more relaxed ground -- a hunting one."
Wainwright shook his head and chuckled in amazement. Well, his intuition hadn't failed him about children after all. Although, it was far too soon for thinking that. But it did make him happy that his daddy, bless his heart, would finally be getting a Jakobs heir who could hold their own in sharpshooting if that turned out alright.
“Well, poor old me is no good for such leisure time, so I’m better off watching you two from afar. Or I could fix us breakfast. I don’t know about you two, but I didn’t even catch a moment for a coffee this morning with all this ruckus!”
