#dad bane

23:57 <<pays taxes like a chump>> [[reality_theBachelorCoruscant_Lilo_HappyDance.hgif]] yay <3 i'm bushed but i'll make a bowl for you risotto with mushrooms and nerf sausage just pop it in the oven for a minute

23:59 <<🏆 Trophy Husband 🏆>> LOVE THAT SHIT THANKS

00:08 <<pays taxes like a chump>> actually i'll wait up. i need to talk to you about something

00:10 <<🏆 Trophy Husband 🏆>> THIS BETTER NOT BE THE DIVORCE TALK I WANT THE CAT

00:12 <<pays taxes like a chump>> oh maker no. just have news >:( you can have vincenzo when you pry him from my cold dead freshly manicured fingers 

00:13 <<🏆 Trophy Husband 🏆>> 🔫🔫🔫 LIKE FUN TABLOID NEWS OR FAMILY NEWS

00:14 <<pays taxes like a chump>> family news kinda

---

Bane can't help but stare at you. "Yer serious."

You nod, mouth set in a line. "I got the blood test this morning," you say. "Roaring positive."

His stomach churns. His head feels fuzzy. His knees lock up and, fortunately, you give him a light shove onto the couch so he doesn't just stand there gawping like an idiot.

He sinks into the cushion, willing it to absorb him. He can't deal with this right now. And yet, based on the cross of your arms and the purse of your lips, he has to.

"So what're ya gonna do?" he mumbles.

You flop next to him. "I don't know," you say. “I wanted to talk to you first.” You give a dry smile. “It’s as much your fault as it is mine.”

Were he a softer man, the conflict on your face would be heartbreaking. He knows what's going through your mind -- you love kids. You love your kid. You love his kid. You'd love nothing more than to have another one running around.

And yet, you're not a fool. You're a criminal married to a crook. Another baby is another liability, another weak link in the chain. Not to mention the havoc it'd wreak on your body.

He's no fool either. The first time was hard enough. He doesn't know if he could handle another mouth to feed. Another diaper to change. Another heart running around outside his body. Another living, breathing creature to constantly worry about--

"Daddy?"

He glances up. A tiny shadow peeks around the corner, red eyes glowing. Speak of the Devil and she’ll appear, her blanket draped around her head and shoulders like a Jedi's robe.

He can't help but smile. He sits up from his slouch and leans forward. "Evenin', li'l miss," he says with a tip of his hat. "It's past yer bedtime."

"Heard talkin'." She yawns, her little needle teeth glinting in the light. She rubs her eyes with the heel of her palm. "Wanted to say hi."

He pats his knee. "Come say it, den."

She lets out a happy trill and toddles over, bare feet slapping against the tile. She hauls herself up into his lap and nestles right against his belly.

He lays a hand on her head, stroking his fingertips along her brow ridges. The purrs start immediately, sounding exactly like when Todo's rotor spins out.

You shift closer to him and lay your head on his shoulder. You've got that expression on his face that he still can't put words to. Serene? Motherly? Exhausted? He has no idea. But whenever she purrs, that's the look you get.

A few moments pass. Maybe more than a few. Long enough that the Little Lady falls back asleep and nearly pitches forward off of the sofa.

You swoop in like a mynock before she hits the ground, catching her with your nimble hands. The sudden jolt scares her, but your tone is gently jovial. "Silly girl," you chide as you stand. "Back to bed before you bump your head."

She keeps her eyes fixed on him as her lips curl into a sneer. "No."

Bane can't help but chuckle. She looks as ferocious as a loth-kitten. "Gotta get yer rest, girl."

Her sneer fades into a frown. "But... But you've been gone so long. I wanna sit with you."

Ow. Right in the heart. He knew she'd be a crack shot, but not like this.

"Daddy will still be here in the morning. Right?" You give him a pointed look, and he nods. "Let's get you tucked in."

The girl hesitates. Her eyes fall on Bane, and she reaches out her arm. "...Can Daddy tuck me in too?"

A golden warmth swells his chest. Plucking his hat from his head, he places it on the caf table as he stands. "'Course he can."

She chirrups happily and settles into your arms, her eyes drifting closed. You smile at her, then at him. "Talk after?" He nods, and you head for the stairs.

Another pair of feet pitter-pattering around. Another set of tiny clothes. Another little baby in his arms, small and sweet and chirping as it stares at its daddy. Not caring who he is or what he does.

His gut stops churning as he follows you up the stairs.

He still likes the name Winrel.

---

If you have morning sickness when he’s around he might chew his toothpick nervously, a frown seated upon his face. He doesn’t understand it, he doesn’t know how to comfort you, and he might feel the need to leave the house.

During the later stages, when it’s obvious it’s harder for you to do tasks on your own, he sucks it up and tries to do little things for you here and there. Maybe he’ll pick items up for you at the market or do odd jobs around the house.

Cad is most likely somewhat terrified by the changes your body goes through – Duros females lay eggs. He’s never seen anything quite like it. He’s not turned off by it, nor is he disgusted, he’s just … frightened he’s done something terrible to you. It’s even worse if you express discomfort or tell him you’re feeling ill. “It’s all his fault” - he may even feel guilt of some kind.

Despite all this, when you’re happy he feels … better. Your mood very much dictates the mood he’s in. Maybe the baby kicks and you are excited and want to share that with him.

The first time he feels it he might jerk his hand away, eyes wide. He’s never been this close to a pregnant humanoid before and has no idea what it must be like. Though, when you reassure him it’s normal he may timidly come back and try again.

Once this happens, he’s addicted to it. He has finally come to realize “there is a life in there and I helped to create it.” You might wake up from a nap to catch him with his head resting on your belly. Maybe he fell asleep, too.

Perhaps he talks to it. “Sspry lil’ thin’. Quit doin’ flips in d’ere. Gonna give yer momma a sstomach ache.” It’s the cutest thing, but you won’t mention it, for it might make him feel self-conscious or that what he is doing is asinine. I can see him also never doing it again if you call him out on being “adorable” for it. He can’t have adjectives of that nature being associated with him in any context.

Oooh, but come hell or high water, he will be there to protect you from any danger. He is extra vigilant the last few months. So much so, maybe it becomes a nuisance, and you have to say “Cad, relax.” because he is so wound up over every little thing.

Suddenly, he can’t keep his hands off your bump. Maybe he’s more affectionate towards you. Maybe you catch him purring as he nips your neck on occasion. He’s gotta mark what’s his – that’s HIS woman, and HIS baby.

Labor scares the snot out of him. You’d be lucky if he stayed in the room. I can see him holding your hand, but dragging his hat over his eyes, and he may break at least three toothpicks in half if he bothers to replace them after he snaps the first. He thinks you’re dying. He’s shaking like a leaf by this point, though he’s trying to keep up his masculine façade in front of the doctors. At some point he breaks down and yells at them. “What’s takin’ so long?!? Why’s she screamin' like dat?! What’s wrong with ‘er?!”

You try your best to reassure him; he’s a big baby himself.

Afterward, he is in awe and amazed at the bundle in your arms. If Cad ever cries, this might be the only time you see it, and it’s only a tear or two. He’ll deny it if you say anything.