#trentski

From the first initial conversation of you announcing the arrival of your baby in next 9 months, Trent had been your shadow. The man had been by your side so often, it felt even the companionless, private moments of your day were spent with the number 66 riding on your back. From getting dressed to using the toilet, the scouser was hovering around you like a fly. Aiding every step within your routine. Without doubt, it’s great having a second pair of hands to help you pull your jeans up, or grab your particularly strange cravings at 3am in the morning. But the times when one who wasn’t carrying the world’s jumpiest baby, (No question, the genetics of a footballer were riddled in the infant) didn’t even require help, he was still by your side.

You could sense Trent was nervous for the arrival, undoubtedly so were you. It’s always scary the commencement of a child into ones lives. Worries of the amount of sleep deprivation was going to be lost, or how many smelly nappies could one human produce within the space of an hour. For Trent, he had worries about how his life would differ with the introduction of a baby in his space forever. As well as, would he face difficulties finding a secure relationship with his child with the amount of time he was away from home? You’d reassured him as much as possible, explaining how the baby would still be too young to understand their daddy’s departure. And that he’s going to be the world’s most amazing dad, (well maybe just in Liverpool) so they’d have no trouble creating a warm nurturing relationship in short periods of time.

You also suggested for him to reach out to the other lads in the squad, question them on how they deal with leaving their kids for a few days. And well it seemed Trent had taken onto this discussion, and soon couldn’t stop pestering the lads about dad life. Firstly, he went to Hendo. Seeing as he is basically the caregiver of Trent at Liverpool. He asked him about dad life, finding out information about his adaptment. Soon after, he went to the other half of him. The Scottish lad in which you’d think would be too wild to be a father of 2. And with reassurance and comfort from the two, the scouser seemed to feel a bit better about the situation. Certainly, those obstacles were still pestering inside his stomach, but slightly better than before.

There was one stage in your pregnancy, roughly 6 months in. You’d received a message from Andy. It didn’t worry you, the relationship you both had was very pleasurable and compassionate. Though, what was written on the message, did cause you to laugh at a certain man’s acts. He’d sent you a text about Trent. Telling you to come pick him up before he ended up booting the man up the back side. Trent had been grilling the squad about dad life. Asking questions from how does a baby burp? To what happens if the baby shits while Y/N is away? And from then on, it didn’t need any more reassurance. He was going to be, the most lovable yet brainless father.

Excruciating pains began on a Sunday morning, approximately 30 minutes prior to Trent’s departure to Anfield. Another day for the man to provide an assist for the reds. However, justifiably this was a day off for him. With a thousand beads of sweat dripping from all angles, an extreme discomfort deepening from your back, down to your thighs. A flourish of countless breathless moans leaving your body every few minutes. Today, was in fact, the day baby Alexander-Arnold was making its appearance into the world.

You’d both spoken together about a birth plan, soon figuring was best option was for Trent to be with you no matter what. And it seemed, if the scouser did not emerge within the next 15 minutes, this baby would be delivered without the man. Inhaling sharply as a wave of contraction hits you one after another, you scream in pain. Screeching profanities at the need of your husband.

“Y/N!” The familiar voice of the Scouser blasts into the room, blocking all background voices within echo. Trent without a second to spare, shrugs his coat off in a fast motion, throwing it bedside the rather inadequate chair next to your bed. He trudges to your side, hand gently swiping over clammy forehead to press light, in an instant sticky, kisses to your forehead. “I’m here, I’m here,” He whispered.

All was managed was a nod, the pain letting the ability to communicate somewhat unachievable. He rubbed his hands along your shoulders, letting a soft but hoarse grunt escape your lips. Once the contraction had passed, you took a moment to bring yourself to reality what was about to happen.

“She’s coming, today.” You start, reaching over for Trent’s hand to clasp. He smiles at your words, making himself more comfortable within the environment.

“Told you I wouldn’t miss it,” Now your smiling at his words. Peering over at him ruffling through the hospital bag, looking at what you believe was a notepad and pen, detailed inside with all the parts to a healthy labour.

You shook your head at his organisation, fixating on his eyebrows furrow at each word, lip gnawing between his teeth. “Did you win?” You ask, arm extending for the small cup of water placed next to your side.

Breaking his stance, his visions pairs back to you. “3-0. Jots scored an absolute worldie.”

“Ahh, Liverpool’s finest Portuguese.”

“Sure is. Oh sweet, you would of cried! Robbo got face to face with Harry Kane on the pitch. That Scot has no shame,”

Whilst Trent’s still blearing on about Robbo’s fine encounter on the ground of Anfield, your face is scrunched with the not once familiar pain upon your lower region. Shallow breaths soon passing your lips. Wrapping an arm around your stomach, in the chance of resulting the pain, your muscles tighten and sharp pains strike against your back.

A low moan erupts his explanation, “T, listen. As much as I want to hear about Robbo right now. This baby is literally about to push it’s self out of my vagina.”

 The delivery of Athena Alexander Arnold, felt like a fever dream. The state of euphoria blasting a sense of electricity through your chest. You couldn’t describe in words how the last hour felt, or even the current state of mind. Just you, Trent and a tiny bundle of joy, wrapped up in a soft, cotton pink blanket. Were all you ever needed.

“She’s so beautiful,” Trent whispers, scared to raise his voice in case he startled her. He held her with the shakiest of hands, you reaching yours to settle on top of his attempting to provide comfort. He’d tucked himself next to you in the bed, letting you both snuggle close to his warmth.

“I’m so proud of you,” The scouser leaned in to press a tender, passionate kiss to your lips, brushing the damp baby hairs back with his fingers. The tickling sensation earned a laugh from yourself, before taking the opportunity to snuggle back closer into the bare skin of the man next to you.

“I love you,”

Trent smiles, “I love you too.”

Now this response like a flash causes you to perch yourself up. With struggle through the pain, you lock eyes with Trent, a gasp leaving your mouth during the motion.

“I love you too? Eh?” Your eyebrows furrow, eyes scrunching in question.

Trent looks at you with a daze, the state of wonder and bafflement in one’s mind. He switches his vision every few seconds from yourself to Athena. Struggling to take his eyes off the precious bundle. “What?” He questions.

“You’re meant to say, I love you more?”

“We are really having this disagreement an hour after the birth of our daughter?”

You smile weakly at his words, a small giggle compelling you to press your head against his shoulder, nuzzling yourself back against his skin.

“I guess so.”

A few hours passing of the delivery of Athena, you both found yourself beginning to fall back into reality. The past few hours were a blur for you both. Trent blaming the gas and air whilst you believe it was the Scousers clumsiness and lack of intelligence within the department driving you senseless. Managing to catch your breath back and tidying your hair up never felt better, and the ever so small baby girl wrapped in your arms, could cause a bubble of adorableness to shatter.

Once you both had settled, you took advantage of the sleeping child bedside your bed. Resting in the comfort of the hospital bassinet. Joining in her activities, you find yourself dozing in and out of sleep with Trent too actually, though he kept stating he wouldn’t sleep a wink in hospital. Claiming the thought made him anxious and he needed to keep an eye on you both at all times.

Hushed whispers arouse you from your doze, your stiffened neck making you grunt in discomfort. To your left, sat in the rather unpleasant chair, brought to view Trent and Athena. You could make out the scouser talking in his baby voice, a smile plastering on your face. You’d wished someone could film the interaction, to implant the memory forever in your brain. Seeing the two you adore connecting for the first time.

“Hey,” You turn to face Trent, the voice of another startling him. Athena was nestled closely to his side, wrapped in the arms of a world class footballer.

“Hi.” Trent replies, smiling at your presence. His gaze over at you places you in a state of confusion, and worriedness. Tear marks were visible from the gleaming lights shining down on his skin, red splotchy rings round his eyes, burning with touch.

“You okay, T?” To which he nods, eyes fixating down at the little girl in his arms. Within a few seconds, the throbbing pain taking over your body and holding you back from running over to him, You are planted by his side, pressing a delicate kiss to his head.

“What’s up?” And now it’s your turn to wrap your arms around him, your turn to provide the source of comfort he was lacking.

His eyesight soon returned into the blurry state, clouded with the recognition of tears beginning to fall. “Come ere,” You tuck his head into your side, rubbing your hand up and down his back softly.

Soon your already mucky t-shirt, provided with sick and all kinds of baby produces, is covered with a spot of wetness. Salty tears followed with whimpers are catching in his throat, slipping down his face in a state of overwhelm, you thought. “What’s wrong?”

A whimper from the child cuddled between you, causes the separation of your hold. Watching as her eyes flutter gently with the touch of Trent’s finger, lightly stroking her cheek. “I’m just go grateful, feel like I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

Your heart thumps profusely at his words, an electrifying shock causing a rise in your heartbeat. For 9 months you had waited for this moment, to see Trent finally become a father. Despite his worries, and the very small interactions of pregnancy talk before you became expectant. You had a feeling deep down he’d always wanted to be a father. You’d seen the verbalisation and associations he’d had with Robbo’s children, watching as he’d tickled their sides until they were screaming for him to stop. Or the times when he spend chasing Hendo’s daughters around the pitch of Anfield pretending to be a scary monster in their eyes. All those interactions made your stomach flutter heavenly, and though he was nervous, Trent will always make the most amazing father to you.

“Are you trying to make me cry too?” The pair of you laugh, a few sniffles coming from Trent’s side.

“She’s so pretty. I don’t want to ever leave her.” He smiles, leaning down to kiss the softness of her nose, bright twinkly eyes blinking up at his touch. The memorisation the man had on the child was impeccable, from the second she was placed in his touch, you hadn’t seen his vision move for more than a second from her.

You delicately swipe your finger across her eyes, collecting the speck of a tear on your thumb. “She’s got your eyes.”

Trent smiled tearfully, letting her wrap her ever so small finger around his much larger one. “She’s got your facial features though,”

“Better not have your accent.” You nudge him, watching as he erupts a gasp of shock at your words.

“Shockin’ that.”

 Subsequent to the scouser’s little moment of tears and sniffles, you’re both finding tranquillity in the hospital room. Resting alongside one another, tucked in the little hospital bed. Breaking the silence Trent’s phone buzzes, causing you both to turn in the direction of the beep.

“Who’s that?” You question him, as he reaches to grab the phone enclosed in his pocket. Rustling his hand inside, he grabs his phone before gasping in surprise, eyes widening in a matter of realisation.

The scousers mouth opens to speak, despite the hesitation over riding him. “Uh, don’t kill me sweet, but-“

Blinking at him in bafflement, watching as he gnaws on his lip. “What is it?”

“Robbo, Hendo, Ox and Perrie are on their way...”

Your body hurls up in startlement, jaw dropping at his words. “Are you being serious right now Trent? I’ve literally just pushed your child out of my vagina a few hours ago. My t-shirt is covered with all kinds of baby fluids, I look like I have been dragged through a bush. And I’m supposed to be known as a wag?” Your response came out with a tone of fire. Deep down, you know he didn’t invite them to cause upset or irritate you. He was just overly excited and wanted his best friends to see their new little friend.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday to...” Rattles down the corridor, the accent of a Scotsman’s blasting through your ear drums, resulting in you both squeezing your eyes closed in amazement. A subtle knock on the door, followed with a few hushed whispers alerts you both there was a few visitors eager to come inside. Trent slides of the bed, proceeding to open the door.

“Congrats Trentski!” Robbo pulls Trent into a warm, far from gentle, hug. Expression soon followed by Jordan Henderson, Alex Oxlade-Chamberlain and his partner, Perrie. They all huddle into the room, glistening eyes pondering over to the sleeping child settled in your arms. Congratulating you also, a kiss partnered with a side cuddle.

“Woah, she’s so precious.” Hendo whispers, finger lightly dusting over her small wispy fluffle of hair.

“Wee pretty girl.” Robbo smiles, voice far from the same as Jordans. Earning multiple hushes and a dig from Jordan to “shut up, speak in your baby voice.”

“She’s absolutely beautiful, Y/N. Definitely got her mummy’s looks.” Perrie coos at the child, watching as she yawn’s in her dazed sleep. Most likely woken from the blaring Scottish accent flooding the room.

“Thank you, she’s a little angel.” You press a kiss to her forehead. Trent quick to argue at Perrie’s statement, claiming she also was given the pleasure of his features. “Do you want to hold her?” Beckoning your head in Perrie’s direction.

As you snuggle Athena into the warmth of Perrie’s Arms. Gazing at the infant hiccupping in response to leaving the comfort of her mothers. You notice a reasonably large bag resting beside Andy’s foot.

Pointing over in the direction of the bag, you question. “What’s in the bag Robbo?”

He picks up the red bag in a swift motion, placing the relatively heavy bag you estimated from the grunt that passed his lips. “Oh. This is full of some presents we have for Athena.”

“Aww, cheers lads. Let’s see, let’s see.”

“Alright, firstly we have...” Andy rustles in the bag to collect the first item, trying his best be as quiet as possible before he gets another blocking from Hendo.

“Is that?”

“Her first Robertson shirt. Don’t worry, if she’s not a fan of red, I’ve also brought the shirt in the away kit and third kit.”

The room soon floods with chuckles from all, giggling at the state of the Scottish man holding a bag full of Liverpool shirts. Taking a peep further into the bag, you chuckle even harder at the fact he’d also brought the Scottish national team kit also.

“Robbo lad,” Trent shakes his head in disgust, “There’s no way my daughter is even contemplating wearing any of those shirts.” The thick scouse accent roars in horror at the thought of his daughter wearing anything but his name on her back.

“What about me Trent? Gonna be favourite uncle here.” Alex challenges. Outrage and irritancy soon absorbing the mind of the scouser. “She won’t be wearing anyone else’s shirts, other than mine.” Trent states.

“Enough arguing, testosterone is getting far too much now.” Your head beginning to bang at the stupid bicker between Trent and his other half. “Robbo, correct me if I’m wrong. Did I hear you sing happy birthday down the corridor?”

Andy’s cheeks in an instant invoke a rosy blush upon them. A little giggle with his eyes now drawn to the ground. “Well… It is her birthday.”

“Is it like a Scottish thing?”

His head peers back up to look at everyone, “Eh?”

Jordan shakes his head, “Think it’s just an Andy thing.”

Nothing had really suck in that you had a new-born attached to your hip, more often than Trent. The man had been amazing, you couldn’t fault him one bit. The only time that did cause a slight frustration, was when he chose to do things for you. Explaining you needed to rest and recover. Though this made your heart swell and pound profusely, it also caused a strain of irritancy. The man really did have a heart of gold. The day you returned from hospital, you don’t think you moved for longer than five minutes from your bed. Trent was constant, bringing you food, pushing a glass of water into your hands every 20 minutes, checking you felt okay without exception. He was spoiling you to the dozen, you and his little girl meant every single thing ever to him.

Securing the nappy onto the infant’s waist, Trent presses a few smooches to Athena’s stomach, laughing at the vibrations tickling her skin. The man had taken the job of bath-time, in spite of the fact you had argued you were well enough to assist in the job. He claimed you rested in bed.

Hearing a flourish of giggles from the little scouser’s nursery, you decide to check what the commotion was. Stumbling along the floor, a wince of pain every so often from your lower region making the journey much longer than normal. Finally arriving, you perch inside the door way, dwelling on the sight of Trent kissing Athena’s soft curls. A feature you thanked Trent for every day.

“Daddy’s a very funny man.” Trent’s head briskly turns to your presence, a hand raised on his chest to signal the shock he’d gotten.

“You’re meant to be resting.” Trent sighs. Not that he didn’t want you there, the worried feeling he gets from you not being fully recovered and hurting yourself soon flooding back.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. I promise, T.” You shake your head, edging closer to him and pressing a kiss to his side. He smiles at your touch, wrapping an arm around your waist with the other firmly across your daughter’s stomach.

“Can you grab me another Babygro sweet? Little bug has dribbled milk down this one.”

“Sure,” Hobbling over to the wardrobe containing far too many clothes for a diddy child. “Just a baby- what the?”

“Hmm?” Trent hums, sliding a pair of mittens onto each of Athena’s hands, in the hope she’d keep them on and not risk accidently scratching her skin.

“How many Liverpool shirts are in here?” Flicking through the shirts, taking in multiple with daddy on, a few with Athena, one or two with Alexander Arnold, and the rest, you’d be flicking through all day to memorise.

Trent laughs, “Was thinking I’d get her a few with daddy on, a couple with her name on, extras in the case they get dirty. Brought some for when she’s growin’, away ones and third kit ones. Oh, and got her one with daddy is the best,”