Baby Talk
Tech fans… we’re all hurting right now. I decided to help ease the pain: the world NEEDS Tech bonding with baby!Omega. All fluff, no hurt, short and sweet Tech-centric baby AU.
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“You should stop talking to her like that.”
Wrecker’s mouth clamps shut and he looks over at his brother. In his hands he’s holding Omega, who’s absolutely beaming with joy. He’s crouched on his knees on the floor of the bunk room. Tech stands a few feet away, gazing neutrally at the two of them.
“What’s wrong with the way I talk to ‘er?”
Gloved fingers tap away at his datapad. “Your baby talk. It holds little to no developmental value to her speech skills.”
It’s silent as Wrecker blinks slowly and looks back at their sister. She gives him a open-mouth, gummy smile in return. He looks back up at Tech.
“Omega is a baby?”
Tech nods. “Correct. But she needs more mental stimulation than baby talk provides. Full-sentences, preferably.”
Wrecker stands-- his knees audibly cracking on the way up-- and Omega coos as he pulls her closer to his chest. He closes the gap between Tech and himself with barely more than a single step. The datapad is ignored as he shoves the baby into Tech’s arms. Wrecker laughs when it clatters to the floor in favor of Omega.
“Alright, then. You love talking, so you do it!” He leans down and gives Omega a kiss on the forehead, then gives Tech’s shoulder a gentle (well, gentle for Wrecker) punch on the arm. “I’ll be outside. Have fun!”
Tech and Omega look at one another awkwardly once he exits the ship.
Oh, dear.
“Okay, Omega. I’m sitting you down now.”
It’s a half-hour later. After being forced to take a small detour that involved a warm bottle of formula, Tech decided to work on the cockpit passenger seat and the horrific grinding squeak it had recently developed. He’d warned his brothers to stop dropping into it so roughly all the time. Had they listened? Clearly not. But what else is new.
Meanwhile, Omega sits curiously in the other chair. Tech had swiveled it so she was facing him, fully able to watch what he’s doing.
“I’m going to fix this chair,” Tech says out loud. “And hopefully give you some speech lessons as I go.”
So far, Omega has little to say about the matter. She eyes the toys Tech had placed in front of her-- as interesting as chair repair is, he knows better than to expect her to pay full attention. She grabs the closest one and starts chewing on it.
“I’m looking for an appropriate tool,” Tech says as he roots through his toolbox. As much as he enjoys organization, it is a community toolbox, and there’d sooner be peace to the galaxy than successfully convincing his brothers to put stuff back where it belongs. “I need to remove the outer base cover to investigate the squeaking.”
As expected, he gets no response. He continues on, narrating his way through the process, only occasionally glancing up to make sure the baby wasn’t in danger of falling from the chair. He’s applying an oil spray to the offending spring joint when he hears a soft thud. It’s not heavy enough to be Omega, so he takes his time in turning his head over to investigate.
On the floor is one of Omega’s toys. It’s a limp-bodied doll, painted to represent reg clone armor. One of Omega’s favorites. She’s gazing down sadly at it.
“You dropped your doll.”
She looks up at him and for a split second he swears she gives him a ‘no shit’ look she had to have learned from Hunter. But it’s quickly replaced with distress.
Tech expedites his repair and quickly throws the base back on the chair and has it secure with a few twists of his wrench. He sits up, wiping his hands off on the front of his shirt, and grabs the toy off the floor.
“Here you are,” he says politely as he hands it back to his sister. Her wide grin makes him smile. “This is when people would usually say thank you. It’s a signal of gratitude, and often considered polite.”
She proceeds to shove the left arm of the doll in her mouth.
“Since you’re currently incapable of speaking, I’ll give you a pass for now.” He winks at her. He decides not to think about the contaminants running rampant on the cockpit floor, and how many she probably just introduced to her system. She’s got to build her immune system somehow, after all.
He sits down on the newly repaired seat. It creaks a little, but the grinding squeak is no longer. He nods in satisfaction.
“I’ve enjoyed having you here with me, Omega. You’ll make a fine repair assistant some day.”
He means it, too. Though she’s currently busy drooling all over the doll, he can see a spark of intuitiveness and wit within her every time she’s introduced to something new. The way she reacts to stimuli implies a deeper intelligence than one might expect. She’s going to be a sharp child soon, and he can’t wait to be there for it.
“Are you having fun?” He asks amusedly. He leans forward and grabs her other toy-- a hollow round ball filled with beads-- and shakes it a little. She finds this hilarious, and waves her little arms with joy. He touches the orb to the top of her tiny foot, then to the other.
“These are your feet,” he says, smiling, watching her watch the ball. “Shin, knee, thigh.” He boops each corresponding body part as he says them, the toy rattling as he goes. “Stomach, chest, arm.”
Omega shrieks in delight. Tech can’t help but laugh with her.
“And this is your nose.” He puts the ball gently up to her face, rattling it against her little button nose. “You use it to smell.”
He puts the ball down on the seat in front of her. He expects her delight to follow it, but when his hand unblocks her face, he realizes she’s gazing-- in all her unbridled joy-- up at him. His mouth twitches with an unidentified emotion.
“And... and you are my younger sister,” he finds himself saying, pointing at her. He turns the finger to himself. “I’m your older brother.”
Though she’s squirming with joy, he can tell she’s listening. Her eyes follow him, and he hopes she can understand.
“You’re my little sister, and I am your big brother. And I love you very much.”
Her eyes sparkle. Something in his chest twists in the best way. He lowers himself out of his seat and onto his knees, so he’s closer to eye level. He rests his hands on either side of her chair as if protecting her. She gazes intently at him.
“You are 216 days old. Your first tooth is coming in any day now. You live here on the Marauder with Hunter, Wrecker, Echo, and myself. You can’t talk yet but I suspect you will very soon. Everything about you is incredible.”
He says it steadily and confidently, because everything he’s saying he knows to be a fact. There’s a small beat of silence, but it’s quickly filled with Omega’s gentle whining. She reaches her arms out to him-- he can’t imagine a single galaxy where he wouldn’t hold her here and now. He holds her tightly and starts rocking side to side. She nuzzles against his collar.
Tech, like the rest of his brothers, is a natural solider. He’s familiar with the rare cracks and splits of the endless wall that is war. In those grooves you could find rest, maybe even some sparse and patchy solace.
But this... this is peace. And it’s a new, beautiful feeling.
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