#bearsuit

At least with Mor, Hazel only regards her with soft albeit distant curiosity. 

Cassian hands the block to the babe and she does what babies do best and instantly puts the toy to her mouth. None of the toys are small enough to choke on, he’s made sure of it and when he surveys the room, he supposes that this is what it must look like to parent. That’s true.  

Diapers and baby toys. Smashed peas and onesies. Blankets and that little bearsuit he needs to wash before Nesta comes back from her impromptu visit with her sisters. 

Cassian’s offered to babysit this time, though he’d be a bold face liar if he says he wasn’t waiting for the offer. To be welcomed in their home, to be a part of their space, to share and spend time..

Nesta and Hazel. His two favorite people. 

Though... they’re not his at all. 

Cassian’s not a father at all, but a baby sitter, and the way Mor says it--it’s not a friend’s gentle observation. You act like her father. 

“And that concerns you?” he asks. 

“It concerns me that you look at that baby like she owns your whole heart and Nesta’s still giving you the run around.” 

“Nesta has the right to make her own choices.” 

“Nesta would have been doing this alone, would have given birth alone, without any support if you hadn’t stepped up to care for her.” 

Cassian shakes his head, wondering if he should cover Hazel’s ears from the blasphemous words about her mother. But she only blinks brightly and kicks. She’s a wiggly worm and just as he suspected, she looks every bit of Nesta. None of the features of a one-night stand.  

None of his features, because that wouldn’t be possible. 

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