#parent verse

They sure were getting better at this game. Hanzo figured it was normal, since they were at a phase in which their insight and creativity was at peak performance, while they were also small and flexible. His only concern was that they could get stuck somewhere, but at least they had made the boundaries of the playing field very clear. After having counted down from 20 together with Jesse, they split up soon after they had finished, Hanzo taking the upper floor. 

"Are you here--~?” He asks, drawing his words out as he wanders, looking for signs that his child was here.

I hope you like this! I’ve never written for this kind of verse before. I don’t think I’ve seen the original fill of this prompt, either, so I hope it’s not too similar. 

Hux has been having odd dreams, he thinks. Small odd snippets of things, things he thinks he hears. Voices.

He sleeps poorly these days, but he attributes it to his hypervigilance, to the fact that his child is only a few yards away and that if he so much as coughs, Hux is sitting bolt upright, listening like a prey animal for a rustling in the forest, snapping twigs. Besides the faint and vast hum of the ship’s engines and the closer, tighter ambient sounds of his quarters–the chirp and vibration of his datapad, the faint sounds of the autoclean in his refresher–there is nothing. The baby is so quiet that Hux starts again, panicking–something is wrong? Something is wrong? Nothing is wrong. He is simply sleeping hard, utterly loose with sleep. 

Nothing is wrong.

The child is a sweet one, which seems impossible with the genetic makeup he’s been cursed with. Hux had not wanted this child, in the beginning, had to be cajoled and scolded and worn down. His whiplash-fast change of heart had stunned Ren. If this was requisite, then this project would be his alone. No one had ever taught him how to share. If Ren had to have his way, then so did Hux. As always, Hux had done all the work, and damn it, he would reap the rewards, too. He would raise the child, without Ren’s influence, without Ren taking credit for everything, without Ren outshining him again–

The child. He smiles much more than he cries. He seems curious, follows things with his eyes, crosses his eyes and blows outward with his tongue–which is smaller than a button–sticking out. He looks (unbearably) like Ren already. As is the custom on Arkanis, he will not have a name until he’s three months old, so that a personality might be detected before an unsuitable name is chosen. 

(Perhaps his own father had chosen Brendol II for him, it was common if a child looked like his father, but a bastard was lucky to get anything at all. Hux refuses to consider the possibility of naming this child for the parents he better resembles.)

He rubs his eyes, listening too hard, again. Nothing. Just the sounds of the ship.

No. He’s wrong. He was not imagining the voices. He holds himself fully still because he recognizes it, and he knows it is not a threat, it is something worse. Ren has slipped in, sneaky, unstoppable as sunset. If he wants something he will have it, the child himself is proof of that. 

“Are you happy to see me? Did you miss me?”

Hux knows he should move, or shout, snarl, but his immediate thought is that it will upset the child. To feel Hux’s staticky resentment of Ren, Ren’s haughty acquiescence, it would surely make him cry. And he is curious. He wants to listen.

“I have seen you in the Force, you know…did you know?”

The child does not answer, maybe he is asleep. The question is rhetorical in any case. Ren just wants the child to know his voice, so he will not flinch away from it in the future. 

Hux cannot resist.

“What did you see?”

Ren jolts, clutching the child closer, instantly protective. “I grew sloppy,” he said, a simple statement of fact. “I’ve never woken you before.”

“As far as you know.” Even though Ren is right.

“I thought you would be angrier.”

“Why didn’t you ask?”

“You would have said no.”

He would have. 

“What did you see?” Hux asks again.

Ren’s eyes are odd and inky in the low light. 

“He will be greater than either of us.”

“Who will make him that way?”

“That, I don’t know.”

Hux takes a breath, offers his olive branch, one with no specific words of apology, he doesn’t work that way.

Watching the boy waving his hands around animatedly, fingers shaped into guns as he ‘shoots’ at the nearby vase. “Well, maybe you should ask your father how to be a good Cowboy when he gets back home,” he answers in Japanese, putting down the tablet that he had been holding on the couch’s armrest, smiling lightly at the request for candy. “What time is it?” Hanzo asks him, knowing fully well that it was past 5 pm and, thus, slowly nearing dinner time. Still, though, this was a good opportunity to better his son’s clock-reading skills.

Anyone is welcome to be the dad.

Message me to plot.

Along with this, I want to use teen Felicity more.

Is there a Cooper or anyone that wants to corrupt her?

[text: daisy] because at least one third of it belongs to me so u better share hun