#hellstarweek

Hellstar Week Day 7: Free Choice

Hellstar Week | An AU  “Far be it from me to be a contrarian,” John says, watching for the telltale signs of a smile from Zari, the kind she tries to hide when he’s being difficult. “But I already got her the little pointed hat.”

Zari makes the strangest expressions when she’s trying not to be amused, when John can see the corners of her mouth curl as she hugs Nadia to her chest. It’s not so outlandish for her to actually be bothered by it, and he can see the tension she always has stored in her hands, the way her fingers tighten or go stiff. Never so much as to disturb the baby. Always so much that John can tell.

“What?” he asks, always feeling like goading her is a kind of serenade, horribly, disgustingly sappy and romantic, needlessly grandiose, the only way he can express himself. “You don’t want Nadie to be a Witch for Halloween?”

Now Zari moves to the part of the expression where she nips at her lower lip, though nowadays she tucks her lips against Nadia’s forehead, like she’s going to kiss her. John knows she’s trying not to show him that she’s laughing. She used to use her phone in front of her mouth instead. She’ll probably go back to it when Nadia stops wanting to be carried everywhere.

“She’s the daughter of a Warlock, isn’t she?” John says, leaning in closer to Zari’s face so he can watch the spark in her gaze. “She lives part-time in a magic house. That makes her a witch.”

“I know,” Zari mumbles against the baby’s forehead, Nadia making soft noises in response to the vibration of her words. “I-“ She lifts her lips, still keeping her chin gently pressed against Nadia’s head. “I don’t hate it.”

It earns her an eyebrow raise, and just a pang of disappointment. “Why?” he says. “Is it the little flowers on it? Because I can take those right off.”

“It’s not the flowers,” Zari says, unabashedly smiling now, almost coy with how she drops her gaze. “I like the flowers a lot, actually.”

He doesn’t expect to still feel so strongly, not after all this time. He hasn’t had the prior experience. The credentials. When he gets a little gooey, horribly gooey, at the compliment, it’s still enough to knock the wind out of him. “Oh?”

She’s not hiding it now. She’s giggling. Almost a full-on laugh. “I got her one with silver stars.”

And he’d just been trying to catch his breath. The baby makes it harder, little him plus Zari, her wisps of black hair and Zari’s hand stroking the back of her head. He can only grin, lopsided as ever, and say, “You got her a pointy hat?”

“I got her a little witch hat,” Zari says, making the face that means her cheeks are warm, that the fluster of romance being sometimes honest and good and soft gets her, too. “I thought it was a cute idea.”

“It’s despicably cute,” John says. “I didn’t know I had it in me.”

“As I’ve told you a thousand times,” Zari says, more than a little smug. “I’m rubbing off on you.”

“I wish you would,” he says. “You haven’t in weeks.”

“John!” she says, and the scolding in her tone is sharp and welcoming at the same time.

“What?” he asks, as he always does over and over. “It’s a fun, safe way to relieve certain needs without another…” He gestures. “I’m good with the one, yeah? Got it perfect the first time.”

“Which is rare for you,” Zari says. “And we’re very proud.”

“You know,” John says, and he points at her, which she hates, but has gotten used to. “Have I ever told you that you’re lucky you’re so cute?”

“I suppose you’re lucky that you sometimes accidentally manage to have good taste,” she says. “Isn’t that right Nadie? Does Dad have good taste sometimes?”

“I’ve noticed that you’ve never referred to me as ‘Daddy,’” John says.

“And I never will,” Zari replies.