“Leorio she won’t stop crying,” Kurapika bit through the phone as he tried to keep Perrin rocking in his arms. In the past that had been the only way to calm her down, but also in the past it had been her other father holding her.
“Did you try rocking—“
He interrupted before Leorio could continue, “I’m rocking her right now, Leorio, and she’s just staring up at me screaming.”
There’s silence on the other end and for a moment Kurapika looked down at their daughter. Even though she was screeching at a decibel that should only be able to be heard by dogs, she looked fragile and delicate in his arms.
She had been an accident, he hadn’t meant to drag a child through what he had done in his life. But he and Leorio had been careless, Kurapika never clarifying he wasn’t on birth control, and Leorio’s overzealousness tearing the condom that led them into ER nine months later.
And the pregnancy hadn’t been a joy ride either, not by a long stretch. At first it had been the morning sickness that left Kurapika house-bound and only able to subsist off of buttered toast and water. Then it was the stress and high blood pressure; it was nice to have a doctor as a husband sometimes but when it meant checking blood pressure every few hours, it got rather irritating.
It had been after nearly twelve hours of labor, in which Kurapika had held onto Leorio’s hand so tightly he had broken a pinky, that the baby girl was first place in his arms. She was too perfect and innocent, and he could envision the blood he had spilled tainting wherever he pressed his palm.
When she cracked her eyes open for the first time, looking up at her fathers with shimmering dark pupils and a beet red face, the dread Kurapika felt melted away. He was not worthy of her, he never would be; but he would offer his own life up for hers without a moment’s hesitation if it ever came to that. And he would do anything in his power to ensure that danger never came her way.
“Is she hungry? Does she need her diaper changed?” Leorio’s concern pulled Kurapika from his thoughts.
Continuing to bounce her in his arms, the blonde took a measured breath before responding—Leorio was just trying to help, to be a good father, it wouldn’t be helpful for either of them now for Kurapika’s anger to get the better of him, not when Perrin was already loud enough—“She ate not more than ten minutes ago and I checked her diaper before I called.”
He could only hear a sigh on the other end, and Kurapika could feel the way Leorio was certainly rubbing at his temples, “….I don’t know then.”
“How do you not know, Dr. Paladknight?” Kurapika knew it was a low blow—sure, Leorio was a surgeon, not a pediatrician. But with Perrin still crying in his ear, the Kurta’s patience was running dangerously thin.
“Kurapika,” Leorio’s voice was clear and sharp. Nowadays, he rarely called Kurapika by his full first name, favoring ‘Pika’ and ‘Sunshine’ more. There wasn’t only one father whose frustration was bubbling over.
There was silence punctuated by a baby’s cry before Kurapika spoke again, a soft and apologetic, “I know. She’s a baby. She cries. Sometimes for no reason.” Kurapika had said those sentences to himself so much the first few weeks, when every cry made him panic—every cry striking into his bones that the Spiders were reaching into her crib.
“And you’re there,” Leorio’s voice returned to its usual gentle timbre, “Nothing can hurt her while you’re there, I know that. Now you have to know it.”
Leorio had always been good with words, a ‘commendable bedside manner’ one former teacher had commented. In that moment, Kurapika could not have been happier it was the case. His words washed over him like a gentle bandage, not healing the bruises beneath, but protecting them from further harm.
“I know,” Kurapika admitted, still twisting side to side as he tried to calm Perrin. After a moment more of loud cries, “I love you. Get some rest.”
“You know I won’t.”
“And you know I need to ask you to try.”
“Fine, you run a hard bargain.” Leorio’s face must have been soft, then, the sort of gentleness that was shared only with Kurapika in moments when words had never expressed enough. The moments when piercing red eyes met gentle brown ones and a conversation was spoken through stares and blinks.
For a moment, Perrin quieted. Her face was still red and contorted like she would cry again, but she was silent. “I’ll text you,” Kurapika promised before hanging up on Leorio mid-sentence. It was rare for their daughter to be relaxed, and if he could put her to sleep now perhaps a restful night was ahead of him.
But as he carefully hurried into the nursery and went to move Perrin from his chest and to the crib, the wails returned in full force. Kurapika cursed quietly under his breath, returning her to where she had been, the mark of her drool on his shirt. In an instant, the painful screams became nothing more than the usual quiet blubbering of a baby.
What was he meant to do? Was he meant to just stand here by her crib and hold her all night? Kurapika would, he knew that. He would do anything if it meant that his daughter would be able to grow up happy and healthy, grow up in the way his parents had only dreamed. And if it took a toll on his own well-being, well, it would not be the first time he sacrificed himself for others.
After a few minutes, though, Kurapika slowly began to walk out from the nursery. His feet glided against the hardwood, trying to create as little movement as possible for the nearly-sleeping infant in his arms. Finally he reached the small armchair in the living room and sat down.
He thought he could see Perrin blinking her eyes open for a moment, immensely grateful a second later when she returned to her peaceful sleep. Kurapika adjusted their position to bring her closer against him as his eyes memorized her.
Kurapika had never considered himself sentimental—sentimentality was wasted on those who still had the potential for happiness. But now, looking down at the gift in his arms, he could understand the impulse. If he could just capture this moment, how perfect she was, how the guilt and fear no longer weighed heavy in his heart…
Kurapika hanging up on him was really no surprise. When his husband was motivated to do something, there was little Leorio could do to stop him. At least in this case the motivation was putting their daughter to sleep, not murder.
So he left his phone facing up as he began to get ready for the night, prepare for the long day of conferences tomorrow. Nothing would prepare him, though, not really. Not when he would far rather be home with his daughter, who was worth every ounce of effort put into raising her, and his husband, stubborn but wonderful.
Ding.
It was the alert sound reserved only for Kurapika. Leorio nearly dropped his toothbrush as he went over to check.
‘She got tired. -KK’
Attached was a photo of Perrin’s peaceful sleep in Kurapika’s arms, the hint of Kurapika’s smile at the edges of the picture.
In the world they may never be perfection, but Leorio would swear the life he found was as near to perfect as anyone could hope.