This Little Penguin Loves Her Papa
Summary: Your young daughter's grumpy comment makes Zayne question his parenting, but a late night request turns things around Papa!Zayne x Mama!reader (implied to be MC). Reader is called Mama but no gendered pronouns are used. Zayne has a tiny existential crisis but mostly just fluff. 2024 words. this one has been sitting unfinished in my drafts for a bit and i finally got back to it. with zayne's job and serious demeanor i imagine that he would be worried about properly bonding with his kid(s) and sometimes needs a reminder that they love him no matter what :)
You're not sure you've ever seen Zayne so distressed.
"Zayne," you say gently, turning his face toward you. "She's 4 and she was overtired. She didn't mean it, and even if she did, she'll have forgotten it by tomorrow."
Zayne's expression is strained. "Perhaps she was right. I'm used to giving orders in the operating room. I...I should have been less stern with her."
You sigh a little, taking his unmoving hands in your own. Many people fidget when they're anxious, but Zayne is the opposite; he goes almost impossibly still. You brush your thumbs over his knuckles as a calming gesture. "Love, you weren't stern at all. All you said was 'please put your toys away so that we can get ready for bed.' She's just learning how to express her emotions." You poke his cheek and give him a gentle smile. "Trust me, she says I'm being mean at least 3 times a day lately. This morning she threw an epic tantrum because I cut her toast into 4 pieces and then she suddenly decided she wanted it in 3."
You can see from Zayne's eyes that he isn't taking your words to heart. If there's one thing you know about your husband, it's that he's stubborn--once he forms a judgment, it's difficult to shake him out of it. Especially when it's his opinion of himself.
Zayne avoids your gaze. "I--perhaps I've been spending too much time at the hospital. Now that she's older, my absence..." His gaze finds yours again, his brows furrowed. "Maybe I should take a day off, spend the day with her--"
"Zayne." You cut him off gently but firmly, cupping his face in your hands. "You're spiraling. I'm sure she would love a day with you, but--" You pause and look toward the hallway as the sound of little footsteps approaches.
A moment later, your daughter emerges into the living room, her favorite blanket tucked under one arm and her free hand rubbing her tired eyes. She comes to stand in front of you and Zayne on the sofa, clearly still half-asleep. You turn your attention to her, brushing her messy hair away from her face. "What's wrong, sweetheart? Do you need something?" Next to you, Zayne is quiet, watching her but clearly giving her space. It breaks your heart a little.
Your daughter struggles to keep her eyes open as she makes her request. "I thirsty...may have some water?" Her normally clear speech, reminiscent of Zayne's even at her young age, is fragmented by her sleepy brain. It takes you back to when she was a toddler and just learning how to speak: "I hungy, mama! Have cookies? Pease!"
For a moment, you consider just carrying her back to bed, since you're not convinced she's even fully awake at this point. But even when she's basically sleepwalking, you find it hard to say no to that perfect little face. You start to rise from the couch. "Sure, baby. I can get you some water."
Your daughter stops you with a shake of her head. "No, mama. Papa." She pushes gently against your leg to get you to sit back down.
Zayne blinks, clearly caught off-guard. His tone is cautious as he speaks. "You don't want mama to get you water?"
Your daughter shakes her head again, her insistence evident in the way her eyebrows and mouth scrunch up. "No mama. Papa." If she was more awake, you imagine she would defiantly cross her arms and stamp her foot. While your daughter is sweet as can be, she's started testing more boundaries recently, like her display with Zayne before bed. It would be far more frustrating if she didn't have such a cute pouty face. As it stands, it's hard for you to take your child seriously when she glares at you with those big hazel eyes and squishy little cheeks.
Zayne gazes at your daughter, his expression softening as he processes her words. Any insecurity he had seems to melt away in the face of such a clear declaration of affection. He leans forward and kisses her forehead gently, his eyes full of the quiet warmth brought out by his two favorite people. You can't help but mirror the small smile that turns up the corners of Zayne's lips as he agrees to your daughter's request: "Ok, little penguin. Let's get you some water."
He scoops her up, closing his eyes gratefully when she snuggles into him and clutches his shirt with one hand. I told you so, you think, noting how your daughter immediately relaxes in your husband's arms. Leaning his head on hers, Zayne carries her across the room and disappears into the kitchen.
You watch after them for just a moment, shaking your head a little at your husband’s needless worrying. You can’t blame him for it—Zayne wouldn’t be Zayne if he didn’t overthink even the smallest of problems, and you know that his long hours at the hospital have been a source of anxiety for him since you two began dating. But you also know your daughter, and how deeply and fiercely she loves her father. Nothing could change that fact, but especially nothing as trivial as being asked to put her toys away. In fact, you know that it’s because she feels so safe with Zayne that she is confident enough to talk back to him. She is finding her voice, and she knows that her Papa will always be there to listen. You’ll just have to keep encouraging her to use that voice for good so that she doesn’t cause Zayne another existential crisis in the future...
You stand and begin tidying the living room, smiling slightly at the traces left behind by your little family. One of your daughter’s toys, half-stuck between the couch cushions, overlooked during her grumpy pre-bedtime cleanup session. Zayne’s book and glasses, still on the coffee table where he left them before prompting your daughter to get ready for bed. Three coats of various sizes, draped over a chair after returning from your usual evening walk. Your own mug of jasmine tea, now cold, forgotten when you and Zayne started preparing dinner. Each one a snapshot of a moment, evidence of your life together and the love that fills your home.
The sound of your husband’s footsteps returning from the kitchen makes you turn. Your daughter is now fully asleep in Zayne’s arms. Meeting Zayne as he crosses the living room, you lean down to kiss your daughter’s forehead. You choose not to question him about the colorful crumbs dusting the front of her pajamas, but you suspect that if you checked the package of macarons in the kitchen, you would find two cookies suspiciously missing. The thought makes the corner of your lips curl upward gently.
“Do you believe me now?” You tease him quietly, knowing that the worst of his anxiety about the situation has passed. From how relaxed his shoulders are, it seems that your daughter’s sudden favoritism has worked some magic. It may not be enough to fully quell his worries about their relationship, but it’s evidence for you to draw on the next time he needs some reassurance.
The corners of Zayne’s mouth twitch. “It sounds as though what you mean to say is, ‘I told you so.’”
You gasp dramatically and pretend to clutch your pearls. “Dr. Zayne, I would never!” You let your scandalized expression soften to a grin and hold his face in your hands. “I’m just glad your daughter showed up to provide support for my claim at the perfect time. She’d be a great research partner.”
Zayne turns his head slightly to kiss your palm. “Our daughter,” he corrects. “She gets her feisty streak from you.”
You laugh softly, careful not to wake said child. “Perhaps. But she gets her stubbornness from you.”
Zayne raises an eyebrow at you and you laugh again. “Okay, maybe she gets that from both of us.” You lean in and kiss his cheek. “Regardless of what traits she got from whom, there’s one thing I know for absolutely certain: she loves you more than anything. She never complains that you’re gone; she’s just excited for when you return. She’s so proud to tell anyone who will listen that her Papa saves people’s lives.” You look into your husband’s eyes. “When she looks at you, she sees a father who cares, not a father who’s absent. She sees someone who does his best to heal the world’s hurt in addition to hers, not instead of hers. She spoke that way to you today because she knows that you hear her, that you'll always hear her, because you’ll always be listening for what she needs. She trusts you, Zayne.” Your hands find his cheeks again as you drive home your point. “She loves you.”
Zayne holds your gaze for a moment. You can see his mind working, see him weighing what you’ve said. Not because he doesn’t trust you—he trusts you implicitly—but because he is using your words to systematically dismantle every tower of doubt he has built inside his head. After a pause, he speaks assuredly. “I believe you.”
You close your eyes and lean your forehead against his. “Good.” You remain like that for a few seconds, letting the contact ground you both. Tension you didn’t realize you were holding melts out of your body as you breathe.
You open your eyes and step back. You and Zayne look toward your daughter as she shifts slightly in her sleep, and he readjusts her in his arms. After a bit of silence, you speak again softly. “If you want to try to cut back your hours at the hospital, of course I’ll support you. But I don’t want guilt to be what leads you toward us.” You stroke your daughter’s hair gently. “We’ll walk beside you, no matter the path you take. We’ll keep bringing you lunch and picking you up from work. When your surgeries go long, we’ll be here to welcome you home.” You give him a bright smile as you put on a playful tone. “And on your days off, you can return the favor!”
A smile finally breaks across Zayne’s face. “Of course, my love. Linkon’s greatest hunter also deserves such quality treatment.” He looks at you, a playful glint obvious in his eyes. “I’ll even throw in the occasional milk tea as a bonus.”
You raise an eyebrow and cross your arms in a feigned admonishment. “Surely that’s not just an excuse to stop by the dessert shop, Dr. Zayne? Your daughter takes after you in her honesty, you know. Your secret plan might not stay so secret.”
Zayne clears his throat as a light pink tinge graces the tips of his ears. “Perhaps upgrading to frequent milk teas would convince Miss Hunter to look the other way?”
You let out a laugh before you can stop yourself, covering your mouth with your hand to stifle the rest of your giggles. After checking that your daughter is still sleeping soundly, you lean up and kiss Zayne gently. “It’s late. Let’s get this little penguin to bed.”
You turn toward the hallway, but look back when Zayne speaks: “My love.” His gaze is steadfast. “Thank you. For keeping me focused on what’s important.”
You turn back to face him fully. “I know we both have moments where we doubt our parenting.” The ghost of a smile plays on your lips. “Maybe a lot of them. But if our daughter is turning out this well…I think we must be doing something right.”
Zayne nods. "I think so, too." He takes a few steps with you down the hallway. "I'll look at my calendar and see if I can arrange a day off soon. Perhaps we can visit the cat cafe she's been asking about?"
You give Zayne a bright smile. "She'd love that." After a second, you add: "We both would."
Together, you continue down the hall to tuck in your little penguin, looking forward to the promise of another precious day with your family.
