Something about airports that has dads at their most attractive… so now I’m just stuck w/ the imagery of Bakugo in his travel fit w/ your baby daughter strapped to his chest, both of their hair a little mussed, and both with the grumpiest glares and puffy eyes because neither were able to go to sleep at the right bedtime last night.
And she keeps fussing against him, not because she’s hungry or hurt, but because she wants to talk to him; tell him to stop letting you get up every five minutes, that the airport restaurant smells weird (he thinks so too), that she doesn’t like the hideous, matching jackets on the couple next to you… and all he can sit there and do is rub her little back in agreement :(
Oh my god, and Kirishima with a runner little boy… on his feet the entire trip trying to keep your son from dashing off and getting lost in the vast expanse of the airport. To make up for it, he puts him up on his shoulders and stands by the window to help him look at the view… but then he gets his own hair (which is scruffy and down because he’s a mess) pulled because the kid suddenly wants to play ratatouille and make him do all the running.
Definitely the kid who needs to waddle around in the aisle the whole flight, and stand at every row just to say to everyone, too (Kiri’s just behind him, trying not to bump his head, apologetic: “hi, everyone. Sorry, everyone”). It’s okay because they’re both cute, though.
And Deku’s the one who has a 45 minute Q+A session with his son… just about how long your flight is gonna take. Sitting on the ground and sharing every snack you give them like little prisoners. Stop this madness.
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So this post got stuck in my head again.
Baby Sabi variant of I Told You So go brrrrrrrrrrr.
Some fluff under the cut -- and Emmet struggling with that thing that every parent of a baby does at some point: comforting the Wailing One.
"You are being verrrry loud."
The infant continued to scream.
Emmet released the largest of sighs and shifted her in his arms, bringing her up a bit higher against his chest. Her round face was puffy and red -- distress incarnate, it seemed.
"Extremely loud," he deadpanned. "Yet I feel like I've heard louder. Still. You are being loud. Why?"
Sabi squirmed, finally lapsing into precious silence to draw breath.
Snuggled down in the nest, Lord Braviary grumbled and peeked his head over the rim of sticks and down.
"Do you want to cuddle with Braviary? Is that it?"
Her lungs had been filled, and she set about emptying them for the umpteenth time.
He couldn't see anything wrong, which was what made this entire situation so... infuriating? Bothersome?
Concerning?
Emmet wondered -- not for the first time -- how, in all the world, he had wound up like this. Lord Braviary had picked him, and that he could understand the Clan abiding with.
But the tiny orphan he was currently holding while the moon crept towards its midnight zenith?
Baffling.
She was distinctly unhappy, clearly indescribably so -- though, if one asked him, he'd say she was doing a fantastic job of describing her misery despite her nonexistent vocabulary -- and apparently hurting, if the desperate edge to her tone did anything.
Well, her tone, and the odd buzz in the back of his head. It was almost like panic, though subtle, and it didn't shut up no matter how much he mentally swatted at it.
He knew that maternal instincts were strange, if logical things, but paternal instincts were an oddity that he'd never heard of -- assuming that that was what this incessant need to comfort was.
"Would a kiss help?" he offered, half sarcastic, and was met with still more dismay and distress.
Sighing again and desperately nearing defeat -- down would hurt to stuff in his ears, but he couldn't calm her down and he needed to sleep -- he leaned down and gently kissed her tiny forehead. It was feverishly hot from her fussing, especially in contrast with the chilly Icelands air.
Yet -- she quieted at that, prying her bright eyes open to peer up at him.
"... What?" He blinked at her, and she blinked at him. "Was. Was that all you wanted?"
Could babies be petty? He didn't know. Human babies were outside his area of expertise -- and he didn't know how he knew that, he just did, don't ask -- and that included their capacity for grudges, pettiness, mischief, and all other manners of intentional tomfoolery.
But, no, she hiccuped, and her tiny hands were wiggling under her blankets -- she looked like a tiny Cascoon that had been kicked in the face.
Another peck on her forehead, and she babbled, sparing his ears the symphony of misery she'd been conducting.
"... Is it your head?" he asked, leaning back to tilt his head at her. He shifted her to one arm, lifting his free hand to tap at her forehead.
She gurgled, squirming like she wanted to lean up against his hand -- he finagled the glove off, exposing his fingers to the cold air, and pressed his hand to her head.
Well.
As excessive as her methods of conveying the agony of a headache may have been, he could sympathize somewhat.
Braviary clucked from his nest, and he lifted a wing as Emmet looked up at him.
Emmet stared at his Noble for a moment, then looked down at where his bedding lay rumpled on the ground. It had most likely gone cold.
He huffed, softly, and plucked up a pillow, keeping a tight hold on Sabi as he bend to pick it up. She giggled at the motion, down-and-up, apparently in much better spirits.
Lord Braviary rumbled deep in his throat as Emmet clambered up into the nest and settled under his wing. The Noble was exceptionally warm, all fluffy and soft, and it was like being smacked in the face with solid Sleep Powder.
"Okay," he said, patting Sabi's head. She blinked her big, green eyes at him slowly, headache forgotten already under the crushing weight of sleepiness. "Back to sleep. For you. And for me."
He cut off with a yawn.
"Sleepytime junction is now boarding...."
Sabi cooed at that, a little, "'eeby," that was almost a word falling from her mouth as she fell asleep.
Emmet followed soon after, and Lord Braviary after him, huddled in the cozy nest.
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